


The First Time I Believed

by Splivy



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Hurt Loki (Marvel), Hurt Steve Rogers (Marvel), Implied/Referenced Torture, Loki POV, Loki/Steve Rogers are endgame in my eyes, M/M, Slow Burn, Steve Rogers POV, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-01-30 05:03:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21422626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Splivy/pseuds/Splivy
Summary: When Loki comes through the portal to Midgard in Avengers, he has one goal: do not fail Thanos.However, when Loki gets taken into custody by SHIELD, Steve Rogers finds something peculiar about the so called god. When he starts to investigate Loki, he discovers there's someone far more dangerous out there calling the shots. He also finds something else in the fallen god he wasn't looking for.
Relationships: Loki & Thor (Marvel), Loki/Steve Rogers (Marvel)
Comments: 46
Kudos: 253





	1. one goal (do not fail)

**Author's Note:**

> Welp, here I am writing more stories that rather than focusing on the ones I need to finish. Sorry...
> 
> This is also just my need to make Steve/Loki work as a couple. A lot of the time it doesn't, but in this case... ;)
> 
> Here is the "steve saves loki in Avenger's AU" no one asked for.

_ The pain the Chitauri gave him fresh out of the blankness of the void was a relief at first. To finally be able to feel something, after such a long time of nothing, regardless of the fact that it made him howl at the sky in agony, was something he was grateful for. _

_ After a mere few days, that relief quickly turned to horror.  _

_ His howls shifted into long and loud drawn out screams that made his throat hurt, his aching limbs morphed into unendurable misery throughout his entire body, and his thoughts were muddled in his head without concrete order.  _

_ When Thanos came to him, the creatures jeering down at him scurried away at his arrival.  _

_ Loki’s eyes remained closed, but he felt the stranger’s presence looming over him. “Who are you,” he croaked out, adding whatever moisture he could muster to his lips with his dehydrated tongue. _

_ The voice, when it spoke, was deep enough to make Loki’s bones vibrate in his skin. “An ally.” _

_ Loki was skeptical of this, and he opened his eyes to take a look at his so called ally. He was tall, at least eight feet in height. His skin gleamed purple against his muscular build, and the man’s eyes had something dangerous in them.  _

_ “What do you want?” _

_ The stranger leaned down close to his head and used his giant pointer finger to wipe a strand of sweaty hair out of the fallen god’s face. “I only wish to help you.” _

_ “Help me,” he whispered in question with a slur. His inhale trembled in his chest.  _

_ “Of course,” the baritone voice said to him. “Are you doubtful?” _

_ Loki couldn’t help but exhale a wheezing laugh, wrists twisting in their restraints. “Can… Can you blame me?” _

_ He saw the Titan tilt his head, in what Loki thought was amusement, out of the corner of his eye, his gaze scouring over Loki’s bloodied form. “I can be your salvation,” he said. “I can help you ease this.” _

_ Loki swallowed with difficulty, considering this. He wanted to plead at the stranger, to beg  _ yes yes please end this.  _ But he said none of this, just closed his eyes again, feeling defeated.  _

_ “Loki,” the stranger said, but Loki jolted, looking at him.  _

_ “I have not revealed my name to you.” _

_ The Titan only stood back up to his feet then, looking down at him in disappoinment, and Loki hated that he felt like he’d failed the stranger somehow. The man spoke no more, and left, the Chituari coming back with hungry eyes.  _

_ Loki screamed again at their mutilation. _

_ These exchanges would happen frequently, and it took a long time for Loki to crack and allow this stranger, who called himself Thanos, to ‘help’ him. The Titan would ask questions, and Loki would answer them with a hunger to please. _

_ Because when Thanos was pleased, Loki was pleased. It seemed to be the only way to survive.  _

_ It wasn’t until Thanos had his lackey, Loki didn’t know its name, tear into his mind and alter his memories when Loki began to feel hope fade further and further away and his hatred and anger and despair blossom full force.  _

_ A king cast out of Asgard for his supposedly ludicrous solutions to the universe’s problems. He remembered a shadow. He remembered holding on to his brother’s (not brother’s) hand and begging him to pull him back up, the Void beneath him thirsting to drag him down to its hell. He remembered Thor sneering at him when he loosened his grip on Loki’s hand, letting him fall. _

_ It was fuzzy in his head, the memory foggy, but it was there. He wasn’t aware at the time that they were not real. _

_ “Don’t you see, Loki,” Thanos asked, kneeling down next to the fallen prince, who was shackled to a stone slab with silent tears slipping past his eyelids. Thanos had a sympathetic expression on his face. “I show you the truth. You have allowed the Void to skew your memories to what you wanted them to be.” _

_ Loki couldn’t keep the whimper from crawling its way out of his throat. The Other’s taloned fingers still lingering on his temples. “Please,” he whispered. He wasn’t sure what he was pleading for. “My head…” _

_ After this, things seemed to spiral down from there. The pain would begin anew, and he never understood why. He was trying to be good, he was trying to please Thanos, but it always seemed futile.  _

_ The Chitauri would hang him upside down by his ankles while they sliced into his skin and left him there to be drained half-dry of blood. They would dig wrist-deep into his entrails and stare at his component pieces like a prize. They would restrain him flat on his stomach while they peeled the skin off of his back in one layer. They burned him, electrocuted him, drowned him, left him in a small room with no air where he would suffocate to oblivion only for him to be dragged back to wakefulness by The Other. _

_ Loki would scream, and cry, and howl at the sky in despair and hopelessness. Sometimes he saw Thanos watching with something gentle in his eyes, and Loki would lock his own desperate gaze on his only for the Titan to turn away.  _

_ It was like this for what Loki thought was months, maybe years, he didn’t know. He wasn’t allowed the luxury of having any sense of time. It was one of the things that drove him half-mad, among others. _

_ When Thanos came back to him, he wasn’t sure he was holding on to any ounce of sanity.  _

_ The Titan kneeled down next to him again. Loki was on the ground, his shredded back leaning against the stone wall behind him. He didn’t look at Thanos when he came into his field of vision. _

_ “Oh Loki,” the Titan said with something gentle. “Look at you.” _

_ With no reaction, Loki continued to stare forward.  _

_ “I try again and again to help you. I want to help you. I don’t want you to be treated in such a manner. Don’t you know that?” _

_ He doesn’t respond, but when Thanos repeats the question with something harder in his voice, he dully nods his head. _

_ Loki feels a big, calloused hand rest down on his shoulder. He hates that it’s a comfort. “Loki, look at me.” _

_ He does. He doesn’t dare disobey. _

_ “What would you do for me to help you?” _

_ He doesn’t respond. _

_ “What would you do to be free of this?” _

_ Something in him clicks, and he feels realization slam into him with what could have been the force of Mjölnir. He doesn’t have any other choice. There was no way out. His only path to sanctuary was Thanos.  _

_ Finally, he parts his dry, chapped lips and croaks, “anything.” _

_ Thanos smiled, and it was wide. “Good,” he said, and he puts the hand on his shoulder gently against his cheek. “Good, Loki.” _

_ Loki felt his breath hitch a little while shame courses through him. To allow himself to be broken down like this... it was shameful, embarrassing. Thor would never. Loki was no Son of Odin. He was no Prince of Asgard.  _

_ No... he wasn’t... The Other cruelly reminded him of it. _

_ What did he have left? What did he have to lose? _

_ “Come with me,” Thanos’ voice pulls him out of his thoughts.  _

_ And he follows the Titan to his ruination. _

_ ... _

When Loki comes through the portal with a plan, a small part of him wondered if he could throw the whole thing. If he could drop to his knees then and there and tell them what Thanos plans, what Thanos wants. 

But he doesn’t, of course. He can’t. His master would be very disappointed in him, and Loki could not fail him; would not fail him. It would cost too much. He wasn’t even sure if he physically could, the pressure in his mind bearing so much weight on him he was worried it would drag him down. It wasn’t painful, so to say. It was more like a heavy itch that crawls under the skin without relief when you scratch and pick at it. 

It all happens in a flash, too quick for his muddled thoughts to process. 

He knows someone (someone high up in authority) asked him to put down his scepter. He doesn’t.

He knows there is resistance from a few. He kills them.

He knows someone else who stood by the commander tries to subdue him. Loki claims him as his own.

Clint Barton. His name is Clint Barton.

The man who’d demanded Loki to release his hold on his weapon goes by the name of Fury. 

It is all very irrelevant, but he will play the game. For now. This is what he’d been trained to do. This is what he endured pain, and humiliation, and fear for for up to a year. He had to be steel.

He will not fail.

He will not fail.

He will not fail.

He uses the power of the mind stone within in his scepter on other survivors around him. Loki is distantly aware that Director Fury is shuffling quietly, placing the Tesseract in its case while the god is distracted with other things.

He allows the man to think he will escape, and once the mind stone claims the last one standing (much like its claimed Loki, and oh Norns, why was he doing this) he turns to Fury.

“Please don’t,” he hears himself say, and the man stops in his tracks. “I still need that.”

Fury doesn’t turn around to face him, but he speaks over his shoulder. “This doesn’t have to get any messier.”

“Of course it does,” Loki retorts. “I’ve come too far for anything else.” And it is so wholeheartedly true that he hates it. Finally the man turns around with a slow stride, something Loki can’t quite place in his gaze. “I am Loki,” he says. “Of Asgard. And I am burdened with glorious purpose.”

“Loki,” he hears someone question over to the side. “Brother of Thor?”

Frustration flares in him then for multiple reasons. One, how did Loki miss that little man? He will have to gather his mind for his own with the scepter here in a moment. And two, how dare he bring up Thor? 

_ Thor is not my brother, he is not my brother. He is my enemy. I will kill him. I will be steel.  _

Fury drags Loki out of his frantic thoughts. “We have no quarrel with your people.”

Loki could laugh. 

_ I had no quarrel with anything,  _ he thinks.  _ I never wanted the throne. I just wanted to be Thor’s equal. Now look where I am. _

“An ant has no quarrel with a boot.”

“Are you planning to step on us?”

Loki feels his limbs shake slightly and decides to take a few strides with a smirk on his lips.  _ Walk it off. You’re fine. You will be steel. You will be steel. You will not fail.  _ “I come with glad tidings. Of a world made free.”

The man frowns at him. “Free from what,” he asks, and it almost sounds sympathetic in Loki’s ears.

“Freedom,” he answers. He remembers Thanos’ words and turns them around in his mind to his own agenda. He speaks them. “Freedom is life’s great lie. Once you accept that, in you’re heart...” he trails off, but turns quickly and clicks the tip of his scepter on the scientist man’s chest, and he makes a small gasp, but eventually the blue fills his pupils. “You will know peace.”

He hears something from the portal, like something within it is building up. He is sure it is. 

“Yeah,” Fury says a little sarcastically. “You say peace. I kinda think you mean the other thing.”

“Sir,” Barton barks from the side. Loki turns to him while the man strides towards him. “Director Fury is stalling. This place is about to blow. It’ll drop a hundred feet of rock on us. He means to bury us.”

“Like the Pharaohs of Odin.”

Loki is aware it’s a jab at him. He doesn’t care. 

“He is right,” Selvig, Loki thinks is his name, calls from the computer. “The portal is collapsing in on itself. You’ve got maybe two minutes before this thing goes critical.”

Well, Loki thinks to himself. Can’t have that. 

“Well then,” he says to Barton, who quickly pulls out his weapon and strikes Fury in the chest, who falls back with a thump. Loki is aware it was not a kill shot, and anger spikes only a little, but his legs are shaking again and he isn’t sure how much longer he will be able to stand. So he lets it go.

Quickly, they retreat, Barton grabbing the case as they do. 

Things spiral from there again, and it’s all fast and loud and it’s a flurry of voices and gunshots and screams and crashes and it’s too much. He buries himself in his head, thinking of his one goal while he rides in the back of the Midgardian vehicle.

_ You can not fail. You must please Thanos. He is your master. You can not fail. _

He uses power from the scepter to kill those pursuing them, and after what felt like hours, they are in the safe zone.

Loki just rides, his breathing too loud and too frantic and too fast in his chest. His heart pounds against the bones in his chest cavity and he almost wishes the Chitauri had left the crevice open the last time they dug into him. Perhaps then his breath wouldn’t feel so crowded. 

_ If you fail me... _

_ I will not. _

_ You had better hope you don’t. You know by now how I handle failure. _

_ I will not fail. _

_ So you keep saying. I will give you what you desire, frostling. But you must do something for me first. _

_ Yes, my Lord. _

He plays the conversation in his mind over and over. Perhaps this wasn’t what most people would call a calming conversation, and Loki wasn’t sure he would call it that either. But it made him feel grounded. It reminded him of his goal.

_ More like it reminds you how wrapped around his finger you are. _

It didn’t matter. He didn’t matter. Thanos mattered.

He could not fail.

...

Loki and those he’d claimed for himself were all hidden, underneath the earth’s grounds in tunnels that ran throughout the city. He didn’t know, and he really didn’t ask. 

It was muddled in dirt and grime and it smelled of something foul, but it would do for now. 

After they’d settled and he’d managed to calm himself a fraction, he ventured off down one of the tunnels, his nerves still on high. 

He kneels down, scepter in his hand, and focused his energy to tap into the mind stones. After a moment, he materializes back on the Chitauri home world. It’s as dark and cold and harrowing as he remembered it. 

The Other is there, and Loki forms a double version of himself in full armor, the image of his still kneeling form back on Earth still there off to the side.

“The Chitauri grow restless,” The Other says, and it makes Loki’s spine tingle. He doesn’t show his discomfort. He knew better than that by now. 

“Let them go at themselves,” he replies with a steady voice. “I will lead them in a glorious battle.”

His feet are taking him in a line across The Other’s field of vision. “Battle,” the creature questions. “Against the meager might of Earth?”

Loki smirks. “Glorious, but not lengthy.” He takes a leap and turns around, lips parting. “If your force is as... formidable as you claim.”

“You question us? You question Him?” Loki sees the Chitauri’s bony fingered hand rest against the stone rock behind him. Loki is aware Thanos sits upon his throne above them, listening. It makes his skin itch, but he ignores it for now. “He who put the scepter in your hand? Who gave you ancient knowledge and new purpose?”

_ I don’t want it. I don’t want this to be my purpose. I just want to go home. _

_ You have no home, you fool. Thor cast you out, Jotunheim cast you out before you could even form a thought. You have nowhere to go. Thanos is your only path. You must walk it with ease and caution.  _

“You,” the creature questions at him again. “You who were cast out? Defeated?”

“I was a king,” he barks at the Chitauri. It was true. He was a king. He was only trying to do the right thing, or what he thought was the right thing. “The rightful king of Asgard... betrayed.”

And it was true. The Allfather had fallen to Odinsleep, his brother (not brother) was banished to Midgard, and they were on the cusps of war with Jotunheim. His mother (Frigga... not your mother. You have no mother, no family, you only have Thanos) came to him with the crown. 

He thinks he hears The Other sneer only a little on the back of his throat. “Your ambition is little,” he says, moving away from the rock. “Born out of childish need. We look beyond the greater worlds the Tesseract will unveil.”

Loki takes a leap. “You don’t have the Tesseract yet.”

His heart practically leaps into his throat when The Other makes a quick stride to him in what felt like less than a split second. Loki points the scepter at him, the creatures own hand up in defense. Loki doesn’t miss how close to hand is to his temple. 

He’d rather not repeat that pain.

“I don’t threaten,” Loki verifies. “But until I open the doors, until your force is mine to command... you are but words.”

“You will have your war, Asgardian,” Loki doesn’t maintain eye contact when his commander begins to circle him. He can’t stop his heart beat’s pick up in pace though. “If you fail, if the Tesseract is kept from us, there will be no realm, no barren moon, no crevice where He can not find you,” he pauses, and Loki feels the same hand linger near his right side. His breath hitches. He can’t suppress it. “You think you know pain? He will make you long for something as sweet as pain.”

The Other’s hand slams into the side of his face, and he’s cast away back into his still kneeling form, back to Earth. 

He can’t stop it. The panic, the sheer fear that runs through his veins like ice. His breathing quickens, and he tries to control it when he attempts to stand to his feet, but his knees lock and he crumbles back down. 

He lets go of the scepter, letting it rest on the ground next to him as he takes in gulps of air that don’t seem to fill his lungs. 

“Boss,” he hears, and he opens his tightly shut eyes. “Hey, breathe, it’s okay.”

Barton is kneeling down in front of him, hands on Loki’s heaving shoulders with something close to panic in his eyes. 

Loki tries, heaving in breaths that are too short and too fast against his chest. He feels lightheaded. He feels shame.

He wonders if Thanos can see him now, disappointment in his gaze as he looks down to Earth. 

_ Come on, Loki. You were trained better than this. Get up... GET UP! _

He listens to Barton’s gentle tone as it instructs him through his panic, and after what feels like too long, he is breathing normally.

His fear is still there, however. He wonders if he will ever not feel that. If he will forever be looking over his shoulder to see if Thanos watches him. 

“Boss?”

He looks up from the ground, and takes one more deep breath, swallowing the lump in his throat. He goes to pick up the scepter next to him, but Barton’s calloused hand stops him in his track. “Hey,” he says. “Just take it easy.”

“I can not,” is all Loki can muster. It’s not untrue. 

Barton looks at him closely, as if examining. Loki hates it. It’s too close to his memories of being shackled down flat on his back while Chitauri tear into him with equally examining eyes. 

“Maybe you should take a rest,” Barton suggests. “You look like shit, no offense.”

“No,” Loki says. “No... I can’t. I can not stop. I can not fail.”

Barton frowns. “You won’t. It’s okay, just calm down.”

“I can not stop. I can not rest.”

Barton’s hands grab Loki’s to try to stop him, to stop his frantic grab for the scepter. Something clicks between the two, and Loki can’t stop it.

_ Screaming, it’s loud and it’s harsh in the air, it climbs up to skies in terror and horror and pain. _

_ Blood. It’s dripping down his form like a waterfall, but he can’t find relief from it because his chest cavity is just gaping open like a set of double doors. There’s hands in him, and he doesn’t have the breath the scream, but it’s enough pain to send him to oblivion. _

_ Thanos is there, smiling at him gently but it’s still twisted on his features. After a moment, the expression turns to disappointment, and Loki dreads his punishment. _

_ I will not fail. _

_ I will not fail. _

_ I can not fail. _

Loki pushes the man away, and the archer slides back a few feet. Loki’s chest is heaving again, and he grabs the scepter from the floor with a frustrated sound. He gets to his feet, and he sees from the side that the man is looking at him in horror.

So... Barton saw into his mind.

Loki didn’t mean to do that. He didn’t know how he did. 

He manages to slow his heart beat and calm his harsh breathing again, walking towards the still horrified archer. He extends a hand toward him. “Come,” Loki says, and it’s steady and calm in his ears. “We have work to do.”

The man doesn’t say a word, but he grabs Loki’s bony hand and Loki heaves him up to his feet. There’s something sympathetic in the archer’s eyes, but he still says nothing.

Loki is grateful for it.

They leave that hallway, together, and Loki feels dread deep in the pit of his stomach.


	2. a man out of time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve struggles with the aspects of everyday life since the war. He is a man out of time and feels like he doesn't belong. But then Fury comes to him with a mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, wow... It's been a while since I updated this story, but this one will probably have slower updates because I am focused in Brother Behind Me and my Dawn of Gold series.
> 
> Last time, I said this chapter would get up to Loki's capture, but wow did I get ahead of myself. Basically, that didn't happen. I wanted to focus on some inner POV of Steve suffering from PTSD, so that is what a lot of this is, based off of the deleted scene from Avengers.
> 
> Anyways, here ya go!

_ “...War, with the forces of Darkness pressing in from the East, from the West, America heeds the call to invite more freedom. And at the front of the fight, shoulder to shoulder with our battling boys, is Captain America: a product of old fashioned values and exciting new science! Captain America is the name every Nazi fears...” _

At some point he stops listening, just continues to stare at the old footage of himself in war with Germany in a solemn melancholy. He watches himself hit a man with his shield, and he goes flying back. There are explosions, there is battle, there is death, and in the midst of it all is him. 

He cuts the footage, and the screen goes black. Steve is met with his own reflection on the computer, and he looks about as depressed as he feels in that moment. He is aware that wasn’t what emotion that video was supposed to elicit. He should feel pride, if anything. But he can’t find it in himself to. 

He can not deny he saved a lot of people back in the war, and he can not deny that he made the ultimate sacrifice in the end. But out of all of those civilians and innocents saved, there was one man, one soldier who still sent a spike to Steve’s heart. 

Bucky’s face flashed in his mind, and he took a deep breath, pushing it away. He looks back down at the old papers on the table on front of him, yellowed at the edges with time. He pushes aside two of them, both of deceased soldiers that Steve remembered, if only a little, and then comes across the third one that makes his chest feel heavy. 

_ Carter, Margaret (Peggy)... Retired... _

He still remembers the feel of her lips against his, the softness of her skin, the kindness of her heart. He can still hear her sometimes, her voice soft and sweet. He remembers how strong she was, how angry she’d gotten at him for kissing that other woman. He could almost smile, but he can not find it in himself to do so. 

He distantly hears cars on the roads from outside his small, dingy apartment. He ignores them.

There is a number at the bottom of the page. He reads it, and then reads it again. 

His eyes wander over to his landline phone over on the corner on a small side table against the wall. He considers for a moment calling her, though he understands she wouldn’t answer. And if she did, what would he even say? 

_ Hey, Peg, it’s Steve. Steve Rogers, remember me? _

She’d probably faint and fall over. Though maybe she wouldn’t, considering how strong and sure of herself she was. Is.

But, no... he couldn’t. It wouldn’t be the best idea, for him or for her. She was older now, much older. As much as he wanted to, they could never again feel each other’s bodies against one another, or feel their lips meet together in a passionate kiss. 

No, he decides. 

He puts the paper down aside next to the others, picking up the next one.

_ Stark, Howard A. ... Deceased... _

He looks at that one for a moment, and then places it aside. Under Howard Stark’s page is a whiter, cleaner piece of paper. He picks it up gently, and reads it.

_ Stark, Tony... Iron Man... SHIELD... _

SHIELD were the people who found him buried and frozen in the ice, for which he would forever be grateful. The man Fury continued to call him and attempt contact to try to get him to come down and work for them, or whatever it was he wanted. Steve does a few side missions for him sometimes, but mostly keeps away. Apparently, this Tony Stark had acquired a job there, or something. His page had SHEILD and their logo on it, so Steve could only suspect that was what had happened.

He set the paper down with a long sigh, bringing his hand up to his lips. 

He stared down at Tony Stark’s page for a moment longer before deciding he needed some air. 

He stood up, leaving his desk as it was (a mess of paper and a past he wanted to ignore right now), and left.

...

He decided to take a much needed walk, and perhaps it wasn’t the best of ideas. He’d done this a lot since waking up from his seventy year nap, and it never seems to get any easier. There were so many people, so many sounds and innovations and improvements that he’d missed. There was technology he didn’t understand and a modern culture he didn’t know anything about. In the end, it always made him feel worse. Being out in the open in a world he didn’t understand made him feel so small, coming from a world where he was so big. Where he was Captain America.

He still is, of course. He always would be Captain America. He would protect people and keep people safe. It wasn’t like he needed to be seen, or recognized. It wasn’t about that. It just felt like he did not belong. 

Somehow, in his dazed walk, he ended up at one of his favorite little coffee diners in the city. He’d ordered a basic coffee with a French vanilla cream, adding only a little bit of sugar. He drank about half of it before he felt his thoughts spiral a bit into a darker place, so he pulled out his sketchbook and began drawing. 

He sketched for a while, his thoughts calming as the tip of his pen took on a mind of its own, lining and shading his drawing of the city. He had to admit he didn’t feel much better though. 

He looked up at the tower that somehow was looming over him, taking inspiration from it while he shaded in one of his buildings on the paper.

He heard quiet footsteps ascend towards him, and a waitress with bright, blue eyes and blonde hair that had an interesting take on the half up half down look stopped next to his table. She had a pot of coffee in her hand, and she looked at his drawing for a split second before speaking. “Waiting on the big guy?”

Steve stopped his pen, glancing up from his parchment to her. “Ma’am?”

“Iron Man,” she said with a smile, gesturing up to the sky. “A lot of people wait here just to see him fly by.”

“Right,” he replied, unimpressed with the notion. “Maybe another time.” 

He pulled out his wallet while she refilled his mug with her pot of coffee. “The table is yours for as long as you like. Nobody’s waiting on it,” she noted, and began to turn away. “Plus we’ve got free wireless.”

He paused, a little confused. “Radio?”

She smiled at him a moment longer and then she was gone. He looked after her, frowning, and then he put his wallet back into his jacket pocket, a small smile playing at his face. 

“Ask for her number, ya moron,” someone from behind him grumbled, but he didn’t turn to face him. 

She looked back to where the woman had stood, realizing he didn’t even know her name. He considered for a moment to perhaps go find her, ask for her number, suggest to maybe go out and get a drink sometime. But in the end, he doesn’t think he can. 

It still doesn’t feel right. He still remembered Peggy getting so frustrated with him for flirting with another woman when they were clearly attracted to one another. And although he knew he would never be that with her again, he wasn’t quite ready to just... move on. 

Peggy had seventy years to move on. Steve has had about thirty seconds, it feels like. He was still trying to adjust in a world where he didn’t feel like he belonged. He just needed some time. 

He left, leaving a generous tip and his refilled mug of coffee still full and abandoned on the table.

...

Somehow Steve ended up on the train, and he thought perhaps his body decided to take him to the boxing ring before his mind could, because when he looked out the window and watched for a while he realized it was the route he usually took. 

It felt like he was dissociating, a bit. Like... his body was here in the world, but his mind was just trying to follow behind it, barely keeping up, always nipping at his heels but never getting close enough. 

He thought back to Peggy, and then Bucky was there in his mind again, but instead of his smile it was his horror filled face while he plummeted further and further away from his hand into a snowy hell. 

Steve flinched, inhaling a deep breath and twisting his hands together in his lap. He caught a few nervous glances coming his way, but he ignored them to best of his abilities when he turned to the window again to watch the world pass by in a flash. 

After what felt like slow passing hours, the train came to a halt at his stop, and he hastily exited. 

He bumped into a few shoulders at the station that made him feel too claustrophobic, but finally he found his stairs and walked back up to the bright of day. 

The boxing ring was perhaps a block away, and he forced his legs to take him there. 

He wasn’t sure how, but he managed to get there and then got the keys from the owner of the place. 

It was a common exchange between Steve and the man. Steve came here a lot, and after multiple occasions of Steve being the last man there in the quiet hours of the night, the man gave up and just offered him the keys if he promised to lock up properly. 

Steve agreed. 

And now, here he was, still in his khakis and white undershirt striking the punching bag hanging from the ceiling to hell. 

His hands were taped, but he didn’t remember doing it. 

_ Running in a forest, his suit heavy against his body and shield in hand.  _

_ Guns firing, explosions that seemed to shake the earth. _

His punches against the bag came with a boom, and it seemed to echo throughout the building. 

_ “There’s not enough time...” _

_ “I gotta put her in the water...” _

_ A plane plummeting to the ice. _

Sweat dripped from a few loose strands of his blond hair down into his forehead. It tickled when it slid down his face to his neck. 

His heart was pounding in his chest, and he hit the bag harder. His knuckles didn’t even hurt. 

He could cause so much destruction (you have) and it wouldn’t even hurt. 

_ The plane again, he feels dread. He remembers Peggy. _

_ Sounds of explosions.  _

_ A flash of the Tesseract.  _

He could feel a scream lodged in his throat, but he held it back with struggled gasps. 

More sweat fell, he was shining with it. 

_ His compass with a picture of Peggy in it.  _

_ “You won’t be alone,” she said.  _

_ “Oh my god,” someone says, and he feels cold. He is aware he’s alive, but he is so cold. “This guy is still alive!” _

His fist swings back behind him, and then it comes forward on the bag full force, its impact reverberating throughout the room. 

The punching bag comes off of its hook, and it flies towards the wall a few feet away. 

He stops, the only sound to be heard is his panting. It’s eerily quiet among the ring, and he turns around, wiping some sweat from his brow. 

Unfortunately, he was used to this. Behind him is a line of the bags, at least ten of them. He usually goes through all of them. He lifts the next one with one hand, padding over to the hook and placing it on it. He takes one more deep breath, wiping away some sweaty strands of hair. 

He starts punching again. 

“Trouble sleeping?”

A voice calls from the doorway a few feet away, and Steve stops for a moment to see its Nick Fury, still shadowed in his black trench coat and harrowing eyepatch. 

“I’ve slept for seventy years sir,” he says, punching again. “I think I’ve had my fill.”

Fury starts to stalk further inside, his hands clasped behind his back. “Then you should be out. Celebrating. Seeing the world.”

Steve thinks maybe he won’t get much more punching in his nightly routine and stops. He looks at Fury for a moment, then strides over to the bench, unraveling the tape on his hands.

“I went under,” Steve starts, wondering if he shouldn’t. He starts packing his duffle. “The world was at war. I wake up. They say we won, but they didn’t say what we lost.”

“We’ve made some mistakes along the way,” Fury notes. “Some more recently.”

Steve pauses at that last comment, and stops packing to look at him. They lock gazes for a second and then Steve unwraps his other hand. “You here with a mission, sir?”

“I am.”

“Trying to get me back in the world?” 

When his other hand is free, he places the tape in his bag. He notices Fury has some papers and suspects the man will hand it out to him.

“Trying to save it.”

Steve takes the files. It’s a picture and description of the Tesseract. “Hydra’s secret weapon,” he comments, taking a seat on the bench. 

Fury looks down at him, something serious and dire in his eyes. Steve listens. “Howard Stark fished that out of the ocean when he was looking for you. He thought what we think. The Tesseract could be the key to unlimited sustainable energy. That’s something the world sorely needs.”

Steve can’t disagree with that, but he also can’t help but think perhaps Fury is saying words like “unlimited sustainable energy” in substitute of “power”, which may change the situation. Which may also mean... 

“Who took it from you,” he asks when he realizes, handing Fury back the file, who takes it. 

“He’s called Loki,” Fury explains. “He’s not from around here. There’s a lot we’ll have to bring you up to speed on if you’re in. The world has gotten stranger than you already know.”

Steve is slightly annoyed at that, and steps up from where he is sitting. “At this point, I doubt anything would surprise me.” 

Fury’s eyes follow him when he grabs his duffle and heads towards the lined punching bags. “Ten bucks says you’re wrong.”

Steve leans down to pick up one of the bags, heaving it over his shoulder with ease. Fury continues talking. “There’s a debriefing package waiting for you back at your apartment.”

Steve ignores him, stalking out of the gym. He can feel Fury watching him still, but he doesn’t make to follow him. 

“Is there anything you can tell us about the Tesseract we ought to know now?”

Steve doesn’t hesitate. “You should have left it in the ocean.”

And he’s gone.

...

As much as he thought he wanted nothing to do with this particular mission Fury addressed him about, Steve does go home and he does read the files there left for him. 

It’s a lot for his mind to handle at once, but he goes through the details in his head.

The Tesseract was recovered by Howard Stark years before they had found Steve frozen in the ice. SHIELD had been experimenting with it every since, trying to get an understanding of how it works and if they can use the energy coming from it for the greater good. However, he also liked to think he knew SHIELD, and perhaps they just hungered for the use of the damned thing’s power.

They had it in a holding facility in a  _ classified location,  _ the file said. A portal opened, and something came out of it. Or rather, someone. 

Loki, apparently the brother Thor (whoever that was), Asgardian, from space. He’d appeared out of the Tesseract’s portal kneeling down on his knees with a scepter like weapon in his hand, which he apparently used to control the minds of some unlucky agents. If they weren’t controlled, they were dead. Only a few escaped from it all unscathed. 

The file mentioned SHIELD agent Clint Barton had been compromised, and Steve thought he recognized the name, but he couldn’t put a face to it. 

He made a mental note to be on the look out for that. 

There was something nagging at Steve about the situation with Loki. Nobody just appears out of a faulty portal with a weapon that had abilities beyond their understanding out of nowhere. Steve wasn’t stupid. Someone must have sent this Loki and he was acting as general for them. Not that it mattered much, Loki was still apart of the hostile party who needed to be stopped. 

But could it all be a distraction from something bigger?

He wasn’t sure. But for tonight, he read every single line in the files and got all of the information he could gather before yawning and heading to bed to catch a few hours of sleep. 

He had a big day tomorrow.

...

He dreams, and they’re seldom good ones. He remembers burning while the serum worked to change him completely, from the inside and out, to give him something he always wanted: to be useful. He hears explosions in his head and screams. He smells death, the stench of it foul to his nose. Peggy is usually there, but a lot of the time she is frustrated with him. Bucky is  _ always _ there, falling through snow while he practically drags Steve’s heart with him all the way down. Steve’s hand is always still stretched out, a symbol of desperation and of his failure. 

Then he crashes the plane, and he jerks awake. 

It happened practically every night, and it had been worsening for a while now. He doesn’t talk to anyone about it. He doesn’t have anyone  _ to  _ talk about it with, and he doesn’t think he would even be able to get the words out. 

He ignores those thoughts for now, the sound of the quinjet’s engine he is now on dragging him from his mind. Agent of SHIELD Phil Coulson was next to him, talking about something to do with the situation, he thinks, cause he hears the name Loki and the word Tesseract.

He could tell from the moment Steve shook this man’s hand in introduction that he was fascinated with Steve. His eyes shined with something like adoration and longing, but Steve also understood it wasn’t anything romantic. 

It just reminded Steve of how... old he was, and how he was a symbol of the past and of the future. He was a relic. 

Steve engaged in conversation with Coulson, and he liked him. He was an honorable and noble man. 

At some point, Coulson ventured into who all Steve would be working with during this mission. Tony Stark was one of them, but Steve wasn’t sure he was particularly looking forward to that. Natasha Romanoff was another, but he wasn’t familiar with the name. Apparently that Clint Barton who had been compromised was close with her, according to Coulson. Then he mentioned Bruce Banner, aka the Hulk. 

Steve didn’t know who that was at all, and so Coulson got into conversation about how Banner was a scientist who was trying to replicate the serum Dr. Abraham Erskine had implemented into Steve. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. 

Oh, and apparently this Bruce Banner had an alter ego that was basically a big, green rage monster when pissed off. It all had something to do with gamma radiation, but he didn’t really understand. 

But, no, don’t worry about that. It’s fine. 

Coulson handed him a tablet, where it showed footage of this Hulk attacking a university. It showed a lot of destruction, but Steve also understood that Banner wasn’t in much control.

“So, this Doctor Banner was trying to replicate the serum used on me?”

Coulson nodded. “A lot of people were. You were the world’s first superhero. Banner thought gamma radiation was the key to unlocking Erskine’s original formula.”

Steve winces when he watches the Hulk rip a Jeep apart. “Didn’t really go his way, did it?”

“Not so much,” Coulson notes with a touch of sympathy. “When he’s not that thing though, he’s like a Stephen Hawking.”

Steve wasn’t a fan of the word ‘thing’ in regards to another person, but let it go for now because he doesn’t know what Stephen Hawking is. He looks up at the man, confused.

Coulson looks like he understands, and nods. “He’s like... a smart person.” Coulson shifts on his feet a little. “I gotta say, it’s an honor to meet you. Officially.”

Steve smiles at him. Coulson continues.

“I sort of met you. I mean... I watched you sleep.”

Well, he thought. That was... nice?

Coulson recovers quickly. “I mean, I was present... while you were unconscious from the ice.” Steve sets aside the tablet and stands to his feet, striding to the front of the jet with Coulson following behind him. “It’s just an... it’s a huge honor to have you on board.”

“I hope I am the man for the job.”

“Oh you are,” Coulson says with confidence. Steve turns to look at him. “Absolutely.” 

Steve thought maybe that made him feel a little better, and it almost made him feel less out of place. It was... comfortable. This is what he did. He was a soldier, through and through. 

“We’ve, uh, made some modifications to the uniform,” Coulson said. “I had a little design input.”

Steve frowns at him. “The uniform? Aren’t the Stars and Stripes a little old fashioned?”

Coulson’s eyebrows raise slightly. “With everything that’s happening, the things that are about to come to light, people might just need a little old fashioned.”

He and Steve lock gazes for a moment, and Steve thinks he understands. He can share that sentiment.

About forty minutes later, the quinjet finally lands on what looks like a battleship. Steve remembered now Coulson had called it the Hellicarrier. He noticed two runways on a long strip, where one has direct access to a hangar. 

The back of the quinjet opens, and the smell of the sea is the first thing Steve recognizes upon he and Coulson’s exit. There is a woman with short, red hair walking towards them. 

Upon first impression, Steve could tell this woman was strong-willed and confident. 

“Agent Romanoff,” Coulson addresses, then gestures to Steve in introduction. “Steve Rogers.”

“Ma’am?”

“Hi,” she said to him, then turns to Coulson. “They need you on the bridge, they’re starting the face trace.”

Coulson makes to walk away. “See ya there,” he says, and then he’s gone. 

He and Natasha exchange glances before she starts walking, and he follows. “There was quite the buzz around here, finding you in the ice,” she started. “I thought Coulson was going to swoon. Did he ask you to sign his Captain America trading cards yet?”

Steve smiled. “Trading cards?”

“They’re vintage,” she explained, and Steve smiled a little wider. “He’s very proud.”

In front of them is Doctor Banner, who looks extremely lost and uncomfortable in the midst of the chaos. “Doctor Banner,” he calls to him, and the man turns to face him, walking his way. 

Steve reaches out his hand, which Banner takes, and they shake. “Hi,” Banner said. “They told me you’d be coming...”

The man’s hands come together in an obvious nervous gesture. Steve felt for him. He looked like he was waiting for the axe to fall. “Word is you can find the cube,” he said casually. 

Banner’s head twists side to side, watching the people around him. When he talks next, it sounds hushed, and little ashamed. “Is that the only word on me?”

“Only word I care about,” Steve retaliates without hesitation. 

Banner’s nerves calm a little at that, and he looks grateful for it. “This must be strange for you... all of this.”

“Well,” Steve muses. “This is actually kind of familiar.”

“Gentleman,” Natasha said from behind them with a small, playful smile. “You may want to step inside in a minute. It’s going to get a little hard to breathe.”

Steve and Banner exchange glances, but before either of them can say a word, the Hellicarrier starts shaking, and he can hear gears shifting from the bottom of the contraption. 

They’re going under the water. “Is this a submarine?”

“Really,” Banner asks, a little incredulous. “They wanted me in a submerged pressurized metal container?”

He and Banner move closer to the edge of the Hellicarrier. There are two mounted lift fans on each side of of the carrier, and they start to lift into the air. 

“Oh no, this is much worse,” he heard Banner say. He can’t help but smile. This... this he could do. This he was familiar with. 

Maybe SHIELD could offer him what every day life couldn’t after all. Maybe SHIELD was where he belonged. Thinking back, he isn’t sure how he did go back to the casual, pedestrian lifestyle. It wasn’t that simple, or easy. 

This, though... maybe this could be. 

He smiles a little wider, the feeling unfamiliar but good. 


	3. a whole new world

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I should be working on Brother Behind Me, but... I really wanted to get Loki's capture and Thor's arrival in before Christmas, so I decided to make that priority. 
> 
> I am really enjoying this story, and I am loving the positive comments and response to it. Comments are like crack for me, though sometimes I can't reply. 
> 
> Anyways, I feel like it should be said, that for these first couple of chapters, I don't own this dialogue, I'm using movie dialogue so I can stay in track of where I am and keep it accurate.
> 
> Anyways, here ya go! It's a bit shorter, but it's better than nothing!

When Natasha leads Steve and Banner into the Hellicarrier, Steve begins to feel his adrenaline spiking around his nerves at fast pace. And as much as he believed Banner was in the same predicament as he was, he couldn’t help but wonder if it was for different reasons. Steve could practically feel the man’s anxiety rolling off of him in waves. 

Natasha, however, was calm and collected next to them. She had a playful smile twitching at her lips to suggest she found their astonishment amusing, or perhaps that she knew something they did not. Steve could only suspect that this wasn’t even the half of it all, and according to Bruce Banner’s wide eyes, he thought maybe he was thinking the same thing. 

She continues to guide them through steel-walled halls, men and women suited in leather uniforms much like Natasha’s fluttering around with intent. It was all something that Steve found familiar. Bruce flinched next to to him whenever he accidentally bumped shoulders with a soldier running by. 

When they pass the threshold of two double doors sliding into the wall, Steve thought his heart fluttered just a little in his chest. There were computers that blinked information at their processors behind the screens and 3-D demonstrations floated above table panels that showed technology Steve didn’t know a single thing about. The ceilings of the flying contraption were high, the windows surrounded the entire main room, washing the wide open space in bright light from the outside, and there on the far wall, the first wall you see when you walk in, had SHIELD’s eagle logo on display. 

When Steve thought to himself that this was all familiar, this was not what he meant. He was used to dark, underground base facilities that smelled foul, and cube-shaped computers that ran slow. This Hellicarrier had that new car smell and the computers littered across tables that ran the length of the sides of the room were practically flat. 

This he was not used to. 

But he thinks he might like to. 

There, in the center of the room, was a set of control panels. The man standing behind it was Nick Fury himself, dressed in black leather that made him look like a shadow compared to the brightness of the room. 

There was a lean, thin woman with short brown hair pulled back into a ponytail barking orders in a firm, authoritative voice. “Protocol one-nine-three point six are in effect. We’re at level sir,” she said to Fury. 

“Good,” Steve heard him say. “Let’s vanish.”

Steve heard too many voices then for him to discern what was being said, but he thought he understood what was happening. 

After a moment, the Hellicarrier shook slightly, and then disappeared with functional cloaking technology. 

It was amazing. 

Fury turned around from the control panels, the smallest smirk on his lips. He makes his way towards Steve and Banner. “Gentleman,” he calls to them.

Steve, with his mouth still slightly open in surprise, takes slow steps towards the leader, pulling out his wallet. He slips out a ten dollar bill, slapping it into Fury’s hand, who takes it with a smile. 

_ Ten bucks says you’re wrong.  _ Steve was big enough to admit he was wrong.

Steve walks away to watch the ocean pass by. It was all amazing. It was breathtaking, it was innovative, and most of all, it was all crazy. But hey, he was the outcome of a super serum, he could get on board with crazy. 

He turns back around, and Fury is in the process of shaking hands with Banner and exchanging a few words. 

“Thank you for coming,” Fury says.

“Thanks for asking nicely,” Bruce replies. Steve wonders what that means, but he thinks he can put the pieces together. “So, uh, how long am I staying here?”

Fury nods slightly. “Once we get our hands on the Tesseract, you’re in the clear.”

“Yeah,” Banner says a little awkwardly. “Where are you with that?”

Steve gets distracted from that conversation when his eyes lock on Natasha, who is staring a picture of man on one of the screens. Steve wonders if that is Clint Barton, who according to Coulson, was close with Natasha. He felt for her.

He memorized the picture of the man before looking away.

Somehow, Coulson came into the conversation, but Steve didn’t see the man approach. “We’re sweeping every wirelessly accessible camera on the planet. Cellphones, laptops,” he lists. “If it’s connected to a satellite, then its eyes and ears for us.”

When Natasha spoke, her voice sounded hard, and she had something grave on her face. “That’s still not going to find them in time.”

Banner nods, as if in agreement. “You have to narrow the field. How many spectrometers do you have access to?”

Steve doesn’t know what any of that means. 

“How many are there,” Fury asks, though his voice has a lace of pride in it. 

Bruce just nods again. “Call every lab you know,” he practically orders, and Steve likes that the man feels a little more comfortable. “Tell them to put the spectrometers on the roof and calibrate them for gamma rays. I’ll rough out a tracking algorithm based on cluster recognition. At least we could rule out a few places. Do you have somewhere for me to work?”

Fury turns to Romanoff. “Agent Romanoff, will you show Doctor Banner to his laboratory, please?”

Natasha gestured to Banner, who began to follow her to the sliding double doors that opened when it sensed them. “You’re gonna love it,” she tells him playfully. “It’s got all the toys.”

Steve couldn’t hold back a smile.

...

Later that night, they’re waiting in the main room at the table, where Steve sits. Apparently, Bruce Banner and a few SHIELD scientists and technologists are working on using satellite facial recognition to locate the target, Loki.

Steve thought back to the files he’d read at his apartment, wondering exactly who this Loki character was. He remembered the words ‘Asgardian’, and ‘from space’. Outer space was still one of the wonders of the world that Earth still struggled to properly explore. Not only did it have big wonders, but it probably had even more big dangers. He could only suspect this Loki was dangerous too.

But, there was something still itching at him about Loki’s strange arrival. He remembered the file saying something about how unhealthy the alien had looked once he came through the portal. That nagged at him. He couldn’t figure out why. 

But he’s also found in the past that his gut tended to be right. He didn’t voice anything, but he kept it under lock and key for now. 

Coulson mentions something about his vintage trading cards, and Steve knows the man is hinting that he would like Steve to sign them sometime.

“I mean, if it’s not too much trouble,” Coulson sputtered a little.

“No, no,” Steve said. “It’s fine.”

“It’s a vintage set,” Coulson replied with a touch of pride. “It took me a couple of years to collect all of them. Near mint... slight foxing around the edges, but...”

Before Steve could reply, the Agent working at a computer makes a sharp movement. “We’ve got a hit,” he says. Steve remembered his name to be Jasper Sitwell. “Sixty-seven percent match. Weight, cross match, seventy-nine percent.”

“Location,” Phil asked, walking toward the computer screen. 

“Stuttgart, Germany,” the agent replied. “28, Konigstrasse. He’s not exactly hiding.”

Steve frowns at that. Why would Loki not be hiding? If he was planning something dangerous with the Tesseract that he knew he would have backlash on, wouldn’t he want to stay on the down low? 

Nick Fury’s voice comes out of nowhere. “Captain, you’re up.”

Steve stands from where he is sitting, and nods at him. 

Fury’s eyes are hard on him for a moment, and there’s a smile playing at his lips. “Suit up.”

...

Earlier that day, someone whose name Steve doesn’t remember showed him to his own personal room, though it was very small. There was only a locker inside of it, glass showing his reflection with something he hadn’t seen in a very long time on the other side of it. 

His suit, on display on a hefty mannequin. 

It was still much like he remembered it: blue chest with the white star right in the center, red and white stripes along the stomach of it, all the way around. There were red gloves in a display case next to the glass locker, and right at the foot of the figure, was his shield. 

It’s been seventy years since he’d worn the thing, and as nervous as he was to put it back on for the first time in a very long time, there was something exhilarating about standing looking at his uniform that made him who he was today. 

Captain America. America and her people’s shield, protector, beloved by all. He was more than that, though. Sometimes he thought with a bit of bitterness that perhaps the people he protected would never know him as Steve Rogers, but he had come to terms with it a while ago. 

And, hey, Coulson seems to like both versions of him, so perhaps it’s not a totally hopeless notion. 

The glass case slides open without any form of verbal command, and Steve takes a step closer. For some strange reason, Steve feels like the suit is somehow watching him, telling him  _ it’s okay there’s nothing to fear  _ and it is a comfort to his quick paced heart beat. 

He carefully slides himself into the suit, somehow feeling more like himself, like the version of himself he was familiar with, what he was comfortable with. 

He gently picks up the gloves from the display case, and slips his hands inside. His blue half-helmet is still perched on the mannequin’s head, and Steve reaches up to take it, then puts it on. 

When he looks in a mirror over to the side, he remembers what he is missing. He turns back around, the shield staring at him. He takes slow, deliberate steps towards it, and then hesitates just a little when he goes to pick it up from the ground. 

When he sets it up on his arm, he turns back around to the mirror. When he sees his reflection, he can’t keep the smallest of smiles twitching at the corners of his lips.

...

When they load the quinjet, with Natasha in the pilot’s seat, Steve feels his adrenaline running on high in his body, like there are jitters fluttering around in his bloodstream. He is sweating only very slightly. Not enough to shine against his skin, but enough to know his hands are clammy in his gloves. 

“How ya feeling, there, Cap?”

He’s pulled from his thoughts when he realizes Natasha is addressing him from the cockpit. He sets his shield down on the floor, leaning it against the benched seat running along the side interior of the plane, and then takes his feet to the front of the plane. “Oh, ya know,” he says to her with a small smile. “Getting back in the old groove.”

Natasha flips some switches on the panel’s that control the plane and then turns around to face him. “You feeling a little better?”

Steve frowns at that. “Better? What do you mean?”

A sound that sounds like a snort exhales out of Natasha. “Come on, seriously? You just woke up from a seventy year nap buried in the ice, born into a new world you don’t understand,” she says, and Steve shifts a little on his feet. “I’m not trying to be callous, I’m just calling it as I see it. I saw it all over you the minute I laid eyes on you.”

For a moment, Steve almost feels his hackles rise and he gets the instinct to snap. Because who does she think she is, to judge him or assume she knows anything about him. His second instinct is to just open the back of the plane and jump out with no parachute because he feels raw and naked; like he’s been seen. His last instinct is to cry. Because she is right. She is right, and he hates it. Sometimes he still feels cold, or other times when he lays down to go to bed and he finally closes his eyes, he feels like he is being buried alive under a world of ice and fear. 

He doesn’t do any of these things. Instead, he gives her a look, one filled with something close to unease, and she just shrugs. 

She seems to take the hint, because she turns back around to face the controls and lets the conversation go. 

It doesn’t erase how flayed he felt.

Not much longer after that, the plane is finally drifting over Stuttgart, Germany, and Steve suddenly feels like he’s back in the war. Back where he didn’t want to be. ( _ Except you do want to be here, this is where you belong, this is where you are useful. What, did you think you were useful in any other case? You are a soldier, through and through.) _

He winced at his thoughts, and stands up from where he’d taken a seat, bringing his shield up to his arm. 

When they get low enough to see what is happening on the ground, it is absolute chaos. People are running over each other, knocking other pedestrians down just to get away. He can hear panicked screams from inside the plane, and a bright blast of blue light brings his and Natasha’s attention over to the side, where a car goes flying. 

And there, in full armor with a bladed staff that shines blue at the tip, is the culprit. 

_ Loki, Asgardian, from space. Loki, Asgardian, from space. _

Steve repeats those words, preparing himself for what he knew would be a fight. 

He makes to open the back of the plane so he can jump out, but Natasha stands to grab his arm, stopping him. He turns to face her, a little frustrated. “What are you doing, I have to get down there.”

“Hold it, Soldier,” she says, and Steve’s brows pull together in a confused frown. “Look,” she points down to the chaos, where it suddenly is quiet, and people have kneeled on their knees. “Just listen for a moment.”

“He will kill people, Natasha.”

“No, he won’t, he’s making a point.  _ Look.” _

So he does, and it would appear she is right. Loki, who has somehow duplicated himself three times over to block the people from running, is standing among the kneeling citizens, green cape and gold armor standing out against the nightfall. He has a horned helmet, and frankly, Steve wonders how the man is even holding his own head up with those giant antlers. 

Loki has his arms outstretched, his staff still in his hand. He has a smile on his face, and Steve’s stomach churns inside of him. 

Natasha flips a switch, and they can suddenly hear everything he is saying very clearly. 

“Is not this simpler,” Loki’s voice said with an English accent. “Is this not your natural state?”

Steve’s anger spikes a little, and he clenches his fists. Loki starts moving into the crowd, walking among them. Steve knows the move. Walk among the ones who kneel for you just to prove you stand above them. 

Loki continues. 

“It’s the unspoken truth of humanity, that you crave subjugation. The bright lure of freedom diminishes your life’s joy in a mad scramble for power, for identity,” he paused, as if waiting for something. “You were made to be ruled. In the end... you will always kneel.”

Something about the way Loki says that last phrase doesn’t sit well with Steve. Nor does much of this whole presentation Loki has displayed. It almost sounds too... rehearsed. 

Before Loki can say anything else, an elderly man who struggles to his feet steals the attention from the god. The man locks gazes with Loki, who’s smile has fallen only slightly. “Not to men like you.”

Steve feels his heart stutter in his chest, fear running through his body like ice. 

Loki chuckles. “There are no men like me.”

Steve knows what is about to happen, and he locks his eyes on Natasha’s before turning their gazes back down. 

The man’s chin is held high. “There are always men like you.”

Loki raises his staff, and Natasha quickly goes to open the back of the jet, and Steve gathers his thoughts and gets ready and jump. 

“Look to your elder people,” Steve heard. “Let him be an example.”

Natasha quickly lowers the plane ever so slightly, but still out of Loki’s line of vision. Loki’s scepter glows a brilliant blue, the blade aimed at the standing man. 

Steve jumps out of the plane at the same time Loki releases a burst of power. 

Loki is still too slow. 

Steve hits ground, shield up against the blast, which ricochets against the metal back on Loki, who falls to his stomach with a grunt. 

“You know,” Steve’s voice carries. “The last time I was in Germany, I saw a man standing above everybody else. We ended up disagreeing.”

Loki struggles to his feet, a small chuckle bubbling to his lips. “The soldier,” he says, and Steve wonders how he even knows that. “The man out of time.”

Steve doesn’t rise to the bait, instead he just watches Loki stare at him, and above them, the jet finally comes into view. A machine gun disengages itself from its storage, pointed on Loki. “I’m not the one out of time.”

“Loki,” Natasha announces from the plane. “Drop the weapon, and stand down.”

Steve knows before Loki even sends a blue blast towards the plane that he wasn’t going to stop. Natasha maneuvers the plane in time, the blast flying right by it, useless. In this moment, Steve chucks his shield towards the god, and the people disperse in a panic, leaving the duo in the center of the courtyard to fight.

The shield bounces off Loki’s armor, barely even leaving a dent. Steve catches it back in his hand, coming up on Loki who is still recovering from it. Steve throws a punch, and Loki’s head whips to the side from the impact, but it doesn’t even leave a scratch. 

Steve stares at him for a moment, and realizes in that moment that an alien from space probably wouldn’t just go down with a punch, not even from Captain America. 

Loki has both hands on his staff, ramming into Steve’s shield when he blocks it, but when Loki goes in from the other side, it’s enough to send the captain back a few feet. 

_ Alright,  _ Steve thinks to himself with anger.  _ Let’s kick his ass. _

He throws the shield, and Loki easily knocks it away with his weapon. Steve runs to him, anger and adrenaline running through him like a marathon. Steve goes for another punch, but Loki maneuvers to avoid the impact, swinging his staff in a circle to take Steve’s head right off his shoulders. He leans back just in time, and Loki swings again, but this time he jumps out of the way. 

Steve gets a punch in Loki’s side, but it’s nothing, and Steve goes flying forward when Loki throws the staff to his back. He hits the ground. Hard. 

There something about this fight that just doesn’t seem right. Loki is a good fighter, he can tell. Well-trained from wherever he came from, and he maneuvers well to avoid blows coming onto him. But when it comes to Loki engaging in battle himself, he movements are sloppy, almost desperate. It doesn’t make sense. Someone that calculated at avoiding impacts against him should be just as calculated about getting their own blows in. 

But Loki didn’t seem to fighting that way, at least right now. It wasn’t like Steve had any experience, or anything, fighting some Asgardian-god-alien man from space, but he at least knew the correlation happening in Loki’s fighting style did not add up. 

Which brought him back to his previous thought that perhaps Loki wasn’t working alone, or working for someone. He had to be trained by someone, right? 

And again, why was Loki being so... obvious about world conquer. He was insane, sure, that was clear enough. But he also seemed like a smart, strategic person, so... why go so public, as opposed to sticking to the shadows where it seems like he could get more done and be more productive.

He didn’t have much time to think about anything else or analyze his current thoughts, because Loki has come up behind him, the bottom of his scepter holding his head down. 

“Kneel,” he heard Loki say above him, his voice heavy and dark. 

Steve practically rolled his eyes at the cliche, and whirled around to kick Loki in the chest. “Not today,” he said.

Loki stumbles back a little, and Steve could see his anger fuming, becoming more apparent, therefore making his movements all the more desperate. 

Loki throws a few more punches, which Steve blocks or avoids, and vice versa. Loki kicks his knee, sending Steve down only a little, and Loki takes the opportunity to grab him and just... chuck him across the courtyard.

Steve hits the ground again, equally if not more hard than last time, his vision blurring ever so slightly. 

He can feel Loki looking down at him in anger and disdain, but before he can engage any more, loud music that Steve doesn’t recognize blares from the planes speakers, drawing the god’s attention away. 

Steve also turns to his back, looking up at the sky where he sees a small light trailing behind someone as they fly towards them, and Steve immediately recognizes him as Tony Stark, aka Iron Man. 

Stark descends upon them, his repulsers shooting Loki directly in the center of his chest, sending him flying back a few feet while knocking the staff out of Loki’s hand. 

Steve gets to his feet, turning around to face Loki who is down on his back, struggling to sit up. 

Stark lands to the ground, pulling out different forms of weaponry from his suit, all pointed at the god, who doesn’t even have a scratch. 

“Make your move, Reindeer Games.”

Steve comes up to stand by the Iron Suited man, perching his shield back onto his arm. 

Steve expects to continue fighting, because no way was Loki going to just back down because there was another person in the equation. But to Steve’s surprise, Loki raises his hands in surrender, his horned helmet and some other pieces of the armor washing away.

_ Great,  _ Steve thought.  _ Magic... magic is real, it’s a thing. Great. Totally doesn’t make this harder. _

Stark puts his weaponry away back into his suit, lowering one of his gunned hands. “Good move,” he says.

Steve realizes he is breathing a little hard, and focuses on slowing it back down, much like he did in his days as a US soldier. “Mr. Stark,” he greets. 

“Captain,” Stark greets back.

Steve doesn’t like the look on Loki’s face.

He doesn’t like it at all.

...

When they get Loki separated from his scepter (and they lock the thing away in a case), they manage to get the god cuffed to the seat with enhanced metal, apparently according to Stark. Loki didn’t struggle during the entire exchange, and Steve can’t help but wonder why. 

Loki was very quiet, looking forward at nothing, as if he wasn’t even here. You’d think perhaps he’d given up. Steve doesn’t think it’s that, but he can’t think of any other reason Loki would come so easily and quietly. 

Natasha is back in the pilot’s seat, talking with Fury over the intercom. Steve and Stark are standing at the front of the plane, whispering low enough that Loki couldn’t hear. Though, he was an enhanced alien, maybe he could hear. 

_ Can’t hurt to be safe,  _ Steve thought.

“I don’t like it,” he tells Stark, who is still suited up, but his faceplate is down. 

“What,” Stark asks. “Rock of Ages giving up so easily?”

“I don’t remember it being that easy,” he glances back at Loki, who is still staring ahead of him, expressionless. “The guy packs of wallop.”

Tony nods, his voice lightening in a playful tone. “Still, you’re pretty spry for an older fella. What’s your thing? Pilates?”

_ Don’t punch him. Don’t punch him. Don’t punch him. _

“What?”

“It’s like calisthenics,” Stark explains. “You might have missed a couple of things, you know, doing time as a Capsicle.”

Steve locks his gazes on Stark with a clenched jaw, frustration flaring. Did he think this was funny? People have died. “Fury didn’t tell me he was calling you in,” he grumbled.

“Yeah,” Tony remarks. “There’s a lot of things Fury doesn’t tell you.”

Before Steve can get angry, thunder bellows from the night skies, lightning lighting from behind the clouds. 

“Where is this coming from,” Natasha asks quietly to herself.

Steve watches Loki stare out the window, something like fear and unease in his gaze. “What’s the matter,” Steve gets his attention. “Scared of a little lightning?”

“I’m not overly fond of what follows,” Loki says, and Steve and Stark exchange nervous glances. 

The jet shakes, and Natasha struggles to get control. It sounded like something hit the top of the plane, and Steve saw Loki’s eyes goes to the ceiling. It was evident Loki knew what was happening. 

The back of the plane opens, and there in another suit of Asgardian armor is a man, long blonde hair flowing at his shoulders, blue eyes fierce in the night sky. His red cape streams behind him from the wind. Thunder roars, and blinding lightning flares again behind him. 

The man stalks inside the plane, grabs Loki by the throat, and hauls him away. Steve didn’t miss the flash of fear in Loki’s eyes before they disappeared into the night. 

Stark slips his faceplate back on, heading towards the open back of the plane. “Now there’s that guy.”

“Another Asgardian,” Natasha asks from the front, flipping a few switches and pushing some buttons. 

Steve remembers Loki’s fear, the words  _ brother of Thor  _ flashing in his memory. “You think the guys friendly?”

Starks is standing on the edge, getting ready to jump. “Doesn’t matter,” he says, voice grave and finally serious. “If he frees Loki or kills him, the Tesseract is lost.”

“Stark,” Steve calls to him. “We need a plan of attack.”

“I have a plan,” the man turns to face him. “Attack.”

And he’s gone.

_ Dammit... _

Steve makes a frustrated sound, grabbing a parachute from a storage bin on the side wall of the plane. 

“I’d sit this one out Cap,” Natasha says. 

“I don’t see how I can do that.”

“These guys come from legends, they’re practically gods.”

“There’s only one God, ma’am,” he replies, fastening the parachute against his suit. “And I’m pretty sure he doesn’t dress like that.”

He gets a running start, and jumps.


	4. scattered mind, shattered heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki reunites with Thor. 
> 
> It isn’t as good as you’d think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright guys! Finally. Here is it. Thank you so much for being patient with me and sticking with me. And again, I’m so sorry and I can’t explain how EXCITED I am to post this chapter.
> 
> I wanted to focus a lot on the Loki’s inner thoughts during this exchange. It’s... a little more than messed up.

When Loki set his eyes on Thor, a storm raging behind him and red cape waving in the wind, he felt relief. It was as though a giant weight was lifted off of his shoulders and he could  _ breathe  _ again. Such utter and blissful  _ relief.  _

That was the first thing he felt.

The only thing he felt now, the only thing that felt right to feel, was pure, unadulterated  _ rage.  _ He felt his body wracking with it, shaking with the anger that bellowed inside him. 

Why does Thor get to stand there, looking down on him as though  _ he  _ had a right to be angry? As though Loki didn’t scream and cry and beg for Thor to please come, please save him, and always, Loki got nothing.  _ I screamed or you,  _ he thought as his scarred and still mending back slammed down on rocky ground.  _ I cried for you. I begged for you. Where were you? Why weren’t you there? _

He doesn’t ask these things out loud. Instead, he stays angry. It is the only thing to do, the only thing that won’t disappoint Thanos and instill him to bring out his merciless wrath, which Loki has felt first hand. 

So he does just that. Anger, frustration, and rage. Perhaps to be a little petty.

Asking for forgiveness, falling down on his knees and begging Thor to take him home will get him nothing. It always did. Thanos cruelly showed him this, over and over again, and Loki always felt worse after. 

_ Forgiveness is a lie, frostling. You believe your fake brother would accept you back with open arms? It is not so. It can not be so. Let me show you. _

_ Pain pain pain... _

He shook it away, and for some unknown reason, he laughed. 

“Ohh, I missed you too.”

Thor’s fist is clenched around his hammer, and Loki almost wishes he would swing it down upon his head. He knows Thor will not. 

“Do I look to be in a gaming mood?”

“Oh, you should thank me,” he says, pushing himself to his knees. “With the Bifrost gone, how much dark energy did the Allfather have to muster to conjure you here? Your-  _ precious  _ Earth?”

Loki feels Mjölnir drop to the ground, vibrating under his feet. Before he can process the sensation, Thor is roughly pulling him to his feet, and he can’t keep the smallest of noises from forcing its way up his throat. There is a warmth on the base of his neck, and it takes Loki a moment to register that it is Thor’s hand. An old gesture from their youth that Loki is just now recalling. 

Thor’s miserable eyes lock on Loki’s, and Loki  _ hates  _ it. “I thought you dead,” Thor says awfully.

Bitterness slithers its way in Loki’s voice. “Did you mourn?”

Thor frowns, as though he  _ doesn’t understand,  _ and Loki can not ascertain as to  _ why.  _ “We all did,” his not-brother chokes. “Our father-“

Loki doesn’t let him, lifting a finger to stop him mid sentence, another quirk of Loki’s from childhood. “Your father,” he corrects. Thor struggles against him, but Loki manages to push the hand away from his neck. “He did tell you my true parentage did he not?”

_ What is this,  _ he hears Thanos.  _ A faux Asgardian. A monster in Aesir skin.  _

He steps away from Thor, creating a wedge between them, the flood of emotions roiling off Thor too much for Loki’s muddled thoughts. Loki can not figure out why Thor has such a limited understanding of the situation, as though Loki did not have a right to his anger. 

“We were raised together,” Thor says, confusion still laced in his features and voice. “We played together, we fought together. Do you remember none of that?”

Anger spikes in Loki’s blood, singing for him to wrench Thor’s head off right here right now. He could, but he can’t bring himself to do it. Instead, he whirls on his feet, and he feels only a little satisfaction when Thor flinches back. “I remember a shadow,” he bites. “Living in the shade of your greatness. I remember you tossing me into an abyss. I who was, and  _ should  _ be king.”

_ Loki holding on, squeezing, his eyes begging, the Void swirling underneath him ready to swallow him whole. Thor laughing as he lets go, his father’s smile mocking Loki as he tumbles into darkness. Hopelessness, something in chest  _ snapping  _ in half and he thinks maybe it’s his heart. _

Thor frowns, his heated expression replacing the broken one. “So you take the world I love as recompense for your imagined slights?”

That  _ hurt.  _

He recoiled. 

“No,” Thor continues. “The Earth is under my protection, Loki.”

A laugh breaks through Loki’s lips. “And you’re doing a  _ marvelous  _ job at that,” he scoffs. “The humans slaughter each other in droves while you idly threat. I mean to rule them. And why shouldn’t I?”

“You think yourself above them?”

_ No. Yes. I do not know. This is what Thanos has shown me. And it’s beautiful and terrifying and amazing and dangerous.  _

“Well, yes,” he says instead. 

Something flickers in Thor’s gaze. Loki doesn’t catch it. “Then you miss the truth of ruling, brother. The throne would suit you ill.”

Vexation flares in him, and he pushes Thor away again. 

_ I miss the truth of ruling? Says the one who used to swear upon the Norns that he would hunt down every single Frost Giant in the universe and slay them all. Between the two of us, who has actually sat on the throne? _

“I’ve seen worlds you’ve never known about,” he yells, a swirl of emotions flowing through him too quickly for him to keep tranquil. There is pressure behind his eyes. “I have grown,  _ Odinson _ , in my exile. I’ve seen the true power of the Tesseract, and when I wield it-“

A horrible, dawning realization sparks in Thor’s eyes, and Loki almost wishes he would figure it out. The pressure in his head worsens at the thought. 

“Who showed you this power,” he asks, closing the distance between them again. “Who controls the would-be-king?”

_ No one,  _ he thinks.  _ I am no one’s puppet. I am alone.  _

_ Oh Loki,  _ someone says, and Loki doesn’t know if it Thanos or the Other.  _ You think I do not have you right where I want you? _

“I am a king!”

_ I can be. I can be so much more. _

“Not here,” Thor shouts, grabbing Loki by the shoulders and shaking him, as if he thought that would jar some sense into him. “You give up the Tesseract! You give up this poisonous dream…” the anger withers away again, and something desperate and sad blossoms in his eyes, and Loki can’t help but think  _ good, this is how it feels.  _ Thor’s hand replaces itself back on his neck, and Loki feels like he might vomit. “You come home.”

This moment, right here, is what Loki spent months in red, hot agony for. This what Thanos dug into his head for, this is what he screamed for, he cried for. The Other’s long, taloned fingers pressing into his temples, showing him,  _ proving  _ to him that going home would never be an option. The amount of visions and simulations of  _ this exact moment _ that he had to endure… 

He failed many. He passed many too. Sometimes it was a strange combination of both. At first, it was hard. Sometimes, he would fail miserably, falling to his knees, apologizing and  _ begging  _ Thor to take him home, to please get him out of this hellhole. After this, he was always met with pain, and he would scream until his throat bled. It got easier, the more he did it, and Thanos would always be there to remind him what would happen if he failed. In the end, the outcome always,  _ always,  _ remained the same.

_ Thor dead at his feet, Loki standing above him, expressionless, a void of nothingness in his chest. Thanos, smiling. “Good,” he would say, and Loki would have silent tears rolling down his face, but he would feel  _ nothing.  _ “Good.” _

And then they would make him do it again. And again, and again, over and over until he could do it and feel nothing and do nothing but kill mercilessly. Sometimes, he would be on his knees next to a motionless Thor in a pool of blood that wasn’t Loki’s, and he would feel like he should be crying, like he should be mourning. But… nothing. 

_ You come home. _

_ I have no home. I have no salvation but Thanos. It is all I have.  _

_ You know what to do, Loki.  _ Loki isn’t sure if that was the Other, Thanos, or himself. He isn’t even sure it is real. 

He looks Thor straight in the eye, and prepares his lips to form the words before he says them.  _ I know what to do.  _

His voice sounds dead to his ears when he speaks. 

“I don’t have it.”

Something in Loki  _ cracks.  _

Thor exhales a frustrated noise, pushing Loki away. His arm stretches out, and Mjölnir flies back into his hand, pointing it at Loki. 

_ Kill me. Kill me. Kill me. _

“You need the cube to bring me home,” Loki continues. “But I’ve sent it off, I know not where.”

Thor is practically  _ fuming.  _ “Then listen well brother. I-“

As if out of nowhere, something slams into Thor’s ribs, tackling him off the mountain and down below into the trees. Loki thinks it is the Man of Iron. 

“I’m listening,” he says to no one. It isn’t funny. 

A breath he didn’t know he was holding releases out of him, and he hates that it almost sounds like a sob. He closes his eyes against the sting piercing his lids, feeling something heavy in his chest. The pressure that probed behind his eyes from before had ceased, and a strange mix of relief and dread fills in the pit of his belly. 

He wants to scream. And rage. Maybe cry. 

_ Weak,  _ someone says, and Loki knows this time it is Thanos’ voice. It’s not possible, of course. The only one who’d left a mental link open for communication was the Other, and he’s kept to himself for the most part. 

He inhales one more deep breath before forcing his quivering legs to take him closer to the edge, where he sees Thor and Tony Stark standing on opposing sides. 

“This is beyond you, metal man,” Thor grits through his teeth. “Loki will face Asgardian justice.”

Loki could laugh. 

Stark, with his helmet down to reveal his face, says, “he gives up the cube, then he’s all yours. Until then, stay out of my way.” He goes to walk away, his helmet closing to cover his face again. “Tourist,” he adds sarcastically.

In a quick motion, Thor lifts his hammer and chucks it, hitting the metal man in the back, sending him across grass and dirt into a tree. He hits it with a grunt, and Loki wonders what the man is thinking. 

From there, a fight between the two ensues.  _ Of course,  _ Loki thinks bitterly. Thor always did have to fight, even when he didn’t have all the information on the situation. In their youth, Loki was always the one who had to hold Thor back from such childish outbursts, some that even led to backfire on Odin, who would usually just give Thor a slap on the wrist and speak of some useless lesson, and that would be the end of it. Loki always hated it. He hates it now.

_ He’s fighting for you,  _ his voice sneers at him.  _ You should be fighting too, but you’ve allowed yourself to be broken down and remade. Weak. Pathetic.  _

He’s pulled from his thoughts at the sound of Thor’s frustrated yell, and Loki can feel the energy in the air before he even summons the burst of lightning in the sky. It wrinkles down from the clouds, slamming into Stark again, sending him back down to the ground. 

_ Idiot,  _ Loki thinks to his brother, though he knows Thor can’t hear him. What, did Thor think using electricity on an electric, metal suit would render it broken? Loki only suspects it will make it stronger.

His suspicions are proven correct when Thor is pushed to his knees by a powerful boost of energy from the human’s suit. 

Loki knows the mortal will not last long against the might of Thor. Did he truly think he could defeat a god? Or worse, Thor? Loki was a god himself, enhanced in strength just like all other Asgardians ( _ you’re no Asgardian, though, are you _ ), and he lost many sparring matches with Thor in their youth. He also had his fair share of victories in the past as well. As much as he was ridiculed for using “womanly” means of combat, he was good at it. The feeling of magic and a dagger always felt right in his hands, and despite the fact that he was nagged and picked at for the choice, he never let them manipulate him into anything else. 

Loki was prone to being the one who was mocked and teased at by Thor and his friends in their childhood. Most of the time, Loki brushed it off, but sometimes it was hard not to give in and defend himself or admit that perhaps saying such things were hurtful. But of course, they would simply bite back by saying they were only poking fun and he should stop being so childish. 

So he quit trying. He just took the brunt of it all and kept his mouth shut. Like he was told.

He pushes such thoughts away again, pulling himself back to the present to see Thor on his knees again.

Contrary to his initial thought, Tony Stark was holding up fairly well against Thor, who was back on his feet in a flash, grabbing Stark by the shoulders as he whizzes by and slamming him to the ground. Thor raises his hammer, and Loki suspects that will be the end of it, but before his not-brother can bring Mjölnir down, Stark uses his hand boosters to skid across the dirt, running into Thor’s ankles and tripping him to the ground. 

“Hmm,” Loki hums to no one.

Barton had a fair point about these so called Avengers. A group of enhanced individuals brought together to protect the Earth from internal and external threats. There are five of them in total, if you included the archer, but it wouldn’t surprise Loki if Thor were to become the sixth member. As of now, Loki has officially come into contact with four of them. Clint Barton, Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, and now Thor. Though he’d  _ seen  _ Natasha Romanov, he couldn’t precisely say he’d come into  _ contact  _ with her. She was only a pilot, as of now, but Loki had a feeling he would interact with her later on. 

Steve Rogers, who he’d had the pleasure of fighting one on one with, was indeed exceptional, and Loki was only a little surprised at how well he fought against Loki’s enhanced strength. Barton told him mostly everything, but Loki read up a little on his own. Steve Rogers, a weak man made strong by a super soldier serum during Midagrd’s World War II, to be renamed Captain America and rendered a symbol for peace and protection. He held the title well, Loki thought, and Loki could not help but feel a well amount of respect for the man; going into a fight with a being he barely understood with his shield at the arm and ready. An honorable man, it was true, but he was  _ in the way  _ nonetheless. 

There was Tony Stark, aka Iron Man. Loki had interacted with him only a little, but if he learned anything from the man’s sarcastic nature and humorous wit, it would be that he wouldn’t be surprised if the genius billionaire was dead before his older years.  _ Reindeer Games,  _ Loki recalled, still not knowing what that meant. Either way, it was an annoying and mocking nickname Loki didn’t care for. He held much less respect for him than he did Steve Rogers.

Clint Barton, who Loki knew well, was also among the group of exceptional individuals. Compromised, yes, but in the end it benefited Loki either way, telling him everything he needed to know and even things he  _ didn’t.  _ It didn’t surprise Loki to learn the archer had a secret family hidden away from all files and documents, and for a moment, Loki had been tempted to use said knowledge against him. But then he remembered  _ they don’t love you, Loki, they never have they never will, Thor would rather bask in the glory of your death than come save you now,  _ and he couldn’t bring himself to do it. 

Then there is Thor.

Fighting him is… harder.

He will admit, much of their childhood and his past in Asgard was blurry, and edged, but the feelings he associated with those memories were clear enough.  _ Desperation. Inferiority. Unloved. _

And the emotions that came after.  _ Rage. Vengeance. Hatred.  _

But mixed in there were the pieces of Thor that Loki loved. His commitment to his duty to protect Asgard and the Nine Realms, his family and friends, to protect  _ Loki.  _ His arrogance always made Loki frustrated, frustrated enough to make him grind his teeth in his mouth, and he would always strive to keep Thor from participating in such hubristic actions, but in the end it always stemmed from his need to protect. Thor loved with this all consuming fire, and sometimes it led him to do reckless and dangerous things, but it was only because he  _ loved  _ so much. 

_ Not you,  _ Thanos says.  _ He never loved you, the nuisance of a shadow running after attention you’ll never get.  _

Somewhere deep down, Loki should know that that is not true, but  _ doesn’t  _ know, because Thanos and the Other dug so deep into the very core of himself and twisted everything around wrong and he can’t decipher what is true and what is not. But it almost doesn’t matter, because it was all he had. Thanos took everything until there was nothing left but what he offered, and Loki took it  _ willingly _ , thirsted for it. 

So, yes, fighting Thor is harder. Will be hard. But he knew this was inevitable.  _ Thanos  _ knew this was inevitable, and took it upon himself to prepare Loki for it. He failed many times. 

He would  _ not  _ fail now.

The only ones Loki had not yet met was Bruce Banner, and, technically, Natasha Romanov. He understood from Barton and a few files he’d exploited that Bruce Banner would become a big part in Loki’s plan. A man with an alter ego named The Hulk, which to put it frankly, was a giant green rage monster that overtook Bruce Banner’s body when angry. He would become useful indeed.

Natasha Romanov was a different piece on the board, but much less relevant. Loki already knew he didn’t like her. Possibly hated her, even. An ex assassin who had been taken in by shield after Barton crossed paths with her on a mission. Barton couldn’t kill her then, but Loki could make him kill her now. What, did she think she could wipe her ledger clean? Did she think there were such things as second chances? Second chances do not exist, they were a lie, just like freedom and forgiveness was a lie. 

As if from far away, Loki hears Thor shout an exclamation of anger, pulling him from his thoughts and back into the forest below. Stark has just pulled himself back to his feet, Thor standing a few feet away, his skin red with rage. They both stare at each other for a moment longer before running towards each other, ready to pounce. 

Out of nowhere, Captain America’s shield comes in fast somewhere from the left, slamming into the center of Stark’s metal suit, ricocheting off of him into Thor’s Asgardian armor. It jars them out of their heated contest, drawing their attention from the source, where Steve Rogers is standing on top of a broken branch, looking down at them. The soldier is clearly irritated. 

The shield flies back to the captain’s hand, where he perches it back on his arm.

“That’s enough,” he calls down at them. He locks his gaze on Thor’s, cautious. “Now, I don’t know what you plan on doing here…”

“I’m here to put an end to Loki’s schemes,” Thor grits between his teeth, his knuckles white against the handle of his hammer.

“Then prove it,” Steve says. “Put the hammer down.”

“Mmm,” Loki hums quietly, shaking his head. “Should not have said that.”

“Um, yeah, no,” Stark’s sarcastic voice interrupts. “Bad call. He loves his hamm-“

Stark gets cut off by Mjölnir slamming into the man’s chest, sending back a few feet into the trunk of a tree. 

Loki could laugh.

_ You find too much amusement in this, frostling,  _ the Other says, and Loki hates that he can’t tell if it is real. He also hates that it doesn’t matter whether it’s real or not.

“You want me to put the hammer down?” Thor’s muscles bulge, angry veins protruding from his skin. There is this hot fury in his eyes, and Loki recognizes it well from their youth; a look that suggests he’s lost all tolerance. He lifts his hammer, leaping into the air towards the captain, who looks about ready for a nuke to fall from the sky and obliterate everything. 

It’s not too far off of an analogy. 

Loki thinks Steve will get crushed under the force of Thor’s hammer, but Steve is faster. He lifts his shield to cover his body just in time, Mjölnir ramming into it. 

A colossal implosion sends the pair backwards a few feet to the ground, creating a massive shockwave that Loki thinks is enough to flatten anything standing up to a mile. 

It does.

Stark is the first one to struggle back to his feet, looking around at the destruction in awe and with something else that suggests he understands (and fears maybe) the power of a god. Or Mjölnir, to be exact. 

Laying next to Stark, is Rogers, who stands up next, something similar on his features. He looks up to lock eyes with Loki, only for a second, and Loki can’t help but wonder why. He didn’t do it. 

The captain’s eyes steer back towards Thor, who is also up off the ground. His grip has loosened on the handle, and he is breathing hard, as if he’d been running. He looks around, something on his face that Loki can’t quite work out. 

The captain exhales through his teeth, and it almost sounds like a frustrated hiss. “Are we done here?”

Thor looks around again for a moment longer, and then turns to lock his gaze on Loki. 

Loki doesn’t find it funny this time.

…

When they manage to get Loki manacled and restrained back on the quinjet, something heavy in his chest falls to the pit of his stomach. He is in the same seat as before, Thor and the humans speaking in quiet voices at the front of the plane. Loki knows they are speaking about him, but he doesn’t care because it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters but getting the damn Tesseract to where it belonged. 

_ Thanos? You know it doesn’t belong in Thanos’ hands. But you’re too terrified to do anything else.  _

He flinches, aware it’s his own voice, but he can’t suppress it down. 

There was a point in time, during his time with Thanos, that something in him changed. Shifted from fear and defiance and determination to… acceptance. Since then, Loki’s mind had only deteriorated. The voices he hears in his head are his, but sometimes they’re not and that makes it so much worse, because then he can’t pinpoint what is real and what is not. 

_ It’s not Thanos. Only the Other can speak to you.  _

Is that better, somehow? Or worse?

_ You could tell Thor. He’s right there, you could tell him and it would be over.  _

_ You’re in too deep now. There’s no backing down now.  _

_ Do not fail _ , he reminds himself.  _ Do not fail. Do not fail. Do not fail. _

Ever since coming through the portal the Tesseract opened, he had been repeating in his mind, over and over on loop. It was the only way he stayed grounded, the only way he remembers and reminds himself  _ why  _ he is doing any of this at all. 

Better that. Better that than thinking about the time Thanos had his Chitauri tear his skin off in one layer, or remembering the feeling of taloned claws digging deep into his entrails. Better that than thinking about the shadow of the Other’s fingers pressing into his temples, tormenting his already fragile mind, or when they grabbed him by the lungs and  _ squeezed _ . 

He feels his breath hitch in his chest, and he is aware that those at the front of jet are looking at him now. He keeps his eyes clenched shut, focused on controlling his breathing back to normal rather than the eyes from the front poking needles into his nerves.  _ In and out. In and out. Slowly.  _

It takes a moment too long, but he does manage to gain control. He opens his eyes slowly, adding whatever moisture he can muster to his dry lips. He doesn’t turn his head, but he looks sidelong to the cockpit, where Thor is looking at him with something miserable, frowning. Stark is looking at him like he’s trying to figure something out, and Rogers has something on his face that seems to suggest he already has. It makes Loki uncomfortable, and he squirms slightly in his seat.

Romanov is closed off, hard to read, and Loki likes to think he has a talent for looking at someone and reading them down to the core. It is what made him so good at manipulating people to his own benefit, but he can not read the widow now, and it makes him uneasy.

His eyes slide back to staring at nothing in front of him. 

_ Do not fail. I will not fail. I can not fail. _

Thor can never leave well enough alone, and Loki isn’t sure why he thought he would now. 

His not-brother takes slow, cautious steps towards him, but Loki doesn’t turn to look at him.  _ I will be steel.  _

He feels Thor’s shoulder brush against his as he takes a seat next to him, his movements heedful and careful, as if afraid Loki would shatter like glass if he moved too sharply. Loki inhales a sharp breath. 

“Loki,” Thor murmurs, and then stops, mouth open as though he doesn’t know what to say. “Brother-“

“I’m not your brother,” he tries to bite, but it sounds more dead in his ears than he wanted it to. “I never was.”

In the corner of his eye, he sees Thor flinch. Loki can’t find it in himself to feel guilty about it.

“Yes,” Thor says miserably. “So you keep saying.”

Loki turns on him quickly, lacing venom in his voice. “And yet you keep giving me the title.”

Thor is frowning again, much like he was on the mountain, like he doesn’t have a grasp on the concept, like he  _ doesn’t understand,  _ and Loki for the life of him can not figure out why. Thor is the one who let Loki down, Thor  _ murdered  _ him, left to tumble through the Void, left him in the hands of the cruelest creatures in the entire universe where he was shaped into the man he is today. Loki screamed and begged and cried for Thor, for his father, his mother, his  _ family  _ and  _ they left him there.  _

“I hate you,” he says, and it’s quiet and hateful and he  _ loves  _ how Thor’s face just  _ crumbles.  _ “I hate you.”

Thor’s hiss of an inhale sounds like it hurts. He stares at Loki for a moment, and it takes Loki too long to break his own malevolent gaze off of his. 

“What happened to you, Loki,” Thor asks, and Loki could laugh. “What has made you so heartless? What has made you hate me so?”

_ Silvertongue turned to lead? _

_ Know your place, brother. _

_ No Loki… _

_ Imagined slights… _

Loki did laugh, a deep chuckle vibrating in the depths of his chest. Mad. 

Thor is shaking his head, looking at Loki as though he is a stranger.

Loki turns away again.

“You’ll know,” he whispers, all poison in his voice gone. Void. “You’ll know soon enough just how heartless I am.”

“Loki-“

“What do you want, Thor?”

Thor stops, and Loki continues to stare forward, depressing his temptation to look back at him. 

The thunder god opens his mouth, closes it, and then opens it again, his movements hesitant and scared. “I just-... I just want my brother back.”

Loki chuckles again. Because it’s  _ so Norns-damned funny.  _ Thor just doesn’t get it yet. 

His laugh dies again, and his shoulders slump in defeat. He is exhausted, and he has barely even gotten started. “Your brother is dead,” he says, breathless. “He died in the Void, and what came after just resurrected him to his own ruination.”

Finally, he turns, locking his gaze on Thor’s, who looks horrible. “Loki is dead,” he says. “What came through the portal the Tesseract opened, is who I am now.”

Thor swallows, hard, his throat bobbing as he does. “Then who are you,” he asks. Loki feels something crack. “Who are you? If not Loki?”

Loki closes his eyes. 

_ I haven’t the faintest idea. _


	5. his sixth sense

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They bring Loki into custody.
> 
> Steve has a... feeling...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I deleted and reuploaded because I realized I messed up the inner monologue and forgot to italicize that, and THAT bothers me! 
> 
> I’m sorry!
> 
> To reiterate, this is super late because I’ve been struggling with depression pretty bad since quarantine. I deal with it by going out, and I can’t do that. So... I’m okay. Figuring my life out.
> 
> Applied for summer classes! So there is that. 
> 
> All about silver linings! 
> 
> Enjoy!

When Loki is brought into Shield headquarters, his first thought is  _ perhaps they will just kill me and get it over with.  _ But logically, no, he understands that wouldn’t make any sense or benefit them at all. Maybe, if they had the Tesseract, or maybe, if they had the knowledge that Loki does about what creatures are going to be invading. ( _ Or who sent them. Who sent you.) _ . But they don’t have the Tesseract, and they know nothing. So Loki suspects he will be questioned, tortured perhaps, but there wasn’t a single thing they could do to him that hasn’t already been done to him before. And Loki knows Thor would not allow them to harm him, anyways. Not in that manner. 

_ Are you sure? He was fine with it before. He orchestrated your murder. He didn’t come for you when you screamed, when you begged like a mewling child. _

He clenches his fists, nails biting into his palms as he is surrounded by a total of eight Shield guards, all who lead him through the halls of Shield HQ. They’re taking him to a cell, no doubt, but he is not particularly worried about it. It’s all part of his plan anyways.  _ Wait, and be patient. You can do this.  _

And like that, he loses himself in his mantra of  _ do not fail  _ and  _ you know what happens when you do.  _ When, not if, and it was a maddening aspect of Thanos’ and The Other’s words. They do not believe he can do it. Loki is not certain he can do it, either.  _ You have to,  _ he says to himself inwardly.  _ It’s all you have left.  _

He doesn’t realize when he is brought into his cell, all he knows is that at some point he notices he is alone and free of the metal shackles around his wrists. He is surrounded by glass, and it’s a cylinder-like shaped cell, the metal floor forming a circle underneath his feet. There is nothing in the cell besides a small bed, and when he sits down on it, it isn’t comfy at all. It doesn’t matter, of course. 

_ You’ve slept in worse places.  _

And he has. The first time Thanos let him sleep on any form of padding was not a particularly fond moment. Otherwise, he normally slept on the dusty floors of the Chitauri’s home world, the sound of water dripping from somewhere and the darkness his only friend. 

Then Thanos brought him onto Sanctuary, where he was told to get as much rest as possible before his “mental defense” training started. At the time, Loki hadn’t known what that meant, but it almost didn’t matter because the moment his back touched the softness of a bed he thought he would  _ die  _ of  _ relief.  _

He figured it out soon enough, and the relief was again yanked away just like his hope.

_ (Metal biting into his wrists, twisting, writhing to get away from the sheer  _ violation  _ of the force pushing itself into his mind. Screaming, calling for Thor, but Thor doesn’t come, he never comes. Please-) _

He blinks back to the present, and he clenches his jaw, hands twisting together in front of him. A nervous gesture Thanos had noticed and tried to correct. Which always only made it worse, so Loki learned to force himself to quit doing it. 

_ Thanos isn’t here, now, is he? I can do what I want. _

Which is pathetic, he knows. Thanos is always here. 

He closes his eyes, and waits.

…

If Steve were to be completely honest with himself, he doesn’t precisely know what was going on. One moment he is fighting a literal god from space, the next he’s sitting at a table with Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, Natasha Romanoff, and the god of thunder. Director Nick Fury is briefing them all on the situation as it stands. Which was a tornado of words that he never thought he would be hearing come out of anyone’s mouth. 

Aliens, gods, artifacts from space… it was all very new and very confusing. However, he’d dealt with the Tesseract before. And he stands by his previous statement that they should have left it in the ocean. Now look where they stood. The people who have been killed and compromised and injured and lost. It was war. All over again, and there was something in him telling him to run as far away from this as he can, because the last time he was at war, he ended up frozen in the ocean. But he knew he could never leave people who needed help to fend for themselves. It just wasn’t who he was.

There was a video feed of Loki’s cell playing for all of them, and Thor’s eyes continued to steer towards the image, and then snap away with something miserable on his face. Loki himself seemed at ease, sitting on the provided bed and staring forward at nothing. A different kind of relaxed. As if he were waiting. Steve manages to look away and at Fury as he speaks. 

“I told him if he made one wrong move,” Fury starts. “Then he would surely regret it.” His voice was hard, and low, something dangerous in the back of his throat. “Then he practically laughed in my face.”

“He does that,” Thor mumbles, and Steve wonders if they were supposed to hear it. The god wasn’t seated at a chair like the rest of them (excluding also Fury), but standing off to the side with his arms crossed over his chest, fists clenched. 

“What’s his aim,” Steve asks. There didn’t seem much point in avoiding or postponing this conversation. 

Everyone’s eyes were on Thor, who didn’t appear to be uncomfortable under their gazes; as though he were used to the attention. But there was something sad in his eyes when he speaks about Loki. “He has an army of species called the Chitauri. They’re not of Asgard, or any other known world that I am aware of. They work solely alone. How he acquired this army, I am unsure. But I suspect they will win him Earth in exchange for the Tesseract.”

An army. From outer space. He really owes Fury another ten bucks. 

“So that’s why he needed Erik Selvig,” Bruce notes. “He’s building a portal so they have access.”

“Erik,” Thor repeats, frowning.

“You know him,” Steve asks.

“He’s a friend,” Thor responds, the wrinkle between his brows growing. 

Bruce shifts in his seat. “He’s an astrophysicist, if Loki needed someone to build him a portal for an alien invasion, it would be him.”

“He has him under some kind of spell,” Natasha says, her voice hard, and a little bitter. “As well as one of our own.”

Clint Barton, Steve remembers. He wonders if Natasha was somehow romantically infatuated with the man, or if they were simply friends, but he figured now wasn’t the time to ask. What bothers him  _ now _ , was Loki.

“I want to know why he surrendered so easily,” he states, and everyone’s eyes turn to him. “I mean, I fought him, the guys packs a wallop. I believe if he wanted to escape, he would have.”

Banner shakes his head. “I don’t think Loki is what we should be focusing on. The guys insane, you could smell crazy on him.”

“Have care of how you speak,” Thor says, his voice harder than before. “Loki has wronged you, I understand, but he is of Asgard, and he is my brother.”

“Thor,” Natasha gets his attention. “He killed eighty people in two days.”

Thor twitches, as though the words physically hurt him, and Steve’s heart falls down in his chest for him. “I know,” Thor croaks. “He is angry.”

“Well,” Tony says. “That much was obvious.”

“You want to tell us why,” Fury asks, his one hard eye locking on Thor’s. 

Judging by the look on Thor’s face, he really  _ doesn’t  _ want to tell them why, but there was something else there that suggested Thor understood the dire need for them all to have all of the facts. 

He sighs, eyes closed as if mentally preparing himself for something awful, and Steve feels a pang when he realizes maybe he is. When Thor’s eyes open, they’re blank. Which speaks volumes, if you asked Steve, about how much he was hurting.

“Loki is angry because he has been sorely hurt,” Thor says, and Steve cocks his head to the side as he listens. “He is angrier with me than with anyone else, though I’m still not quite sure why. But I suspect that is his reason for targeting Midgard, for he knows how precious this realm is to me.”

“Why is he so upset,” Natasha asks, leaning forward on her elbows; a display of complete relaxation, but Steve knows she is wound tight. She is just very good at hiding it.

Thor clenches his jaw, looking down at the floor for a moment before looking back up at them. “Unfortunately, even I am uncertain of his exact reasons for being so upset. But I also understand he felt very alone when he discovered the truth of his origins.”

Steve suddenly remembers Loki saying  _ I’m not your brother, I never was,  _ and something clicks. “You mean he’s adopted.”

Reluctantly, Thor nods. “Yes,” he chokes. “I was not there when he needed me. I was here, exiled on Earth. When I returned… it was as though he were someone else. I didn’t understand. I still don’t.”

Steve feels a pang in his chest again, though he wasn’t entirely sure why. It was evident Loki was not wholly sane, but by Thor’s words there must be a reason. There always was, in these scenarios. In the end, however, Loki has killed people. That doesn't just go away.

“What I don’t understand,” Bruce says, standing from his chair and taking a stride as he spoke. “Is why does he need Iridium?”

“It’s a stabilizing agent,” Tony explains, his eyes following Bruce as the man begins to pace. “I’m assuming he needs it to keep the portal he’s building from collapsing.”

“That makes sense,” Bruce mumbles under his breath.

“But that also means he can leave it open for as long as he wants,” Tony adds. 

Natasha leans back in her chair. “Where does he get the energy to do that? Does he have a power source?”

“He has the cube,” Steve says, and Bruce stops pacing to look at him. 

“Yes, but he would need to heat the thing up to almost twenty-million Kelvin just to break through the Coulomb barrier.”

“Unless Selvig has managed to level the quantum tunneling effect,” Tony remarks. 

Bruce tilts his head to the side, frowning. “If he could do that,” he says. “He could achieve Heavy Ion Fusion at any reactor on the planet.”

Tony points at the scientist, his playful tone almost making Steve’s blood boil in his veins. “Finally! Someone who speaks English.”

And… okay, that was fair, because Steve has no idea what they’re talking about, and if Natasha and Thor’s faces were any indication, they felt the same. That didn’t mean Tony had to be such an ass about it. 

“Is that what just happened,” Steve asks.

Natasha smirks a little, and he feels a little triumphant at bringing just a small smile to her tight features. 

“Dr. Banner is here to track the cube,” Fury states, pulling Tony’s eyes off of Bruce and on to him. “We were hoping you could do the same.”

“Well,” the billionaire stands from his seat. “Let’s start with that magic stick of destiny Loki’s got on hand. I don’t believe much in magic, but I do know it works a lot like a Hydra weapon might.”

And Steve hates that there is a fearful flutter in his chest at the mention of Hydra. He hates that he can almost feel sweat forming on his brow, because he should be better than this, but he  _ isn’t  _ and he hates it. Absolutely  _ despises  _ it. But he knows he has a job to do here, so he pushes it down for now. Later… later he could deal with that.

“We  _ do  _ know that it is powered by the cube,” Fury remarks. “But I want to know how it managed to turn two of my brightest men into his own little flying monkeys.”

_ Wizard of Oz,  _ he thinks. He saw that movie, he understood that reference. 

Thor, obviously, does not. “Flying monkeys?”

“It’s from a movie,” Steve says proudly, and he sees Tony roll his eyes, but he allowed himself to remain proud about it. 

After this, Tony and Bruce leave the room to go study Loki’s scepter. Fury leaves too, but to do what, Steve doesn’t know. He is the director of Shield, and the world was currently under the threat of alien invasion, so he didn’t take it personally. 

Thor and Natasha remained, and Steve didn’t feel too comfortable just getting up and waltzing out of there when they both looked like  _ that.  _ Natasha is better at hiding it, but he can see the worry behind her eyes. For Clint Barton? He thinks so.

Thor… Thor just looked  _ miserable.  _ Which was understandable, of course, considering the man’s brother was sitting in a Shield holding cell for killing more than eighty people in less than forty-eight hours, and on top of that, was declaring he hated Thor and that he wasn’t his brother. 

Steve couldn’t help but be curious how that aspect in their relationship happened, and he considered pressing Thor about it, but decided against it. For now.

Natasha, however, did not seem to know boundaries. “Adopted, huh?”

Thor twitches, and swallows something hard, but he doesn’t snap like Steve suspected he might. “Yes,” is all Thor says.

“Do you know his real parents?” Natasha asks.

Steve should stop this obvious interrogation, but he can’t help his own curiosity. There was something about Loki that did not sit right with him, and he hopes Thor might have some answers as to why. 

Thor shifts on his feet, and it’s obvious he feels anything but at ease. “I would rather not discuss it.”

Whatever it is, Steve thinks, it makes Thor feel very uncomfortable. Perhaps because he  _ doesn’t  _ know Loki’s real parents. Or maybe he  _ does,  _ but he doesn’t like it, and if that were true, could that be the reason for strife between the two of them? 

He doesn’t push, and neither does Natasha, but there was something else picking at Steve’s brain. “Thor,” he starts, and Thor turns to him. “How did Loki manage to acquire an army of an outcast species of space? You say they’re not of any known world. How did Loki find them?”

Something tightens around Thor’s eyes (pain, maybe), and he swallows hard, his throat bobbing as he does. “I… I do not know.”

Natasha’s eyes meet Steve’s, and he can tell by the look on her face that they’re thinking the same thing, which is that Thor definitely  _ does  _ know. Or at least has an idea. He sighs.  _ Time to be a captain _ . 

“Thor,” he says again, and this time, Thor’s eyes remain downcast. “People have died. We have some of our men being held by your brother against their will. We need you to do a little better than ‘I don’t know’.” 

That seems to break through Thor’s barrier, and Steve can physically see the walls breaking down around him. After a moment, Thor looks back up at them, eyes sliding to Steve’s, to Natasha’s, then back. His jaw tightens, and he swallows again. 

“You’re right,” Thor says quietly. “I know you are right. But there is another part of me that does not feel like I can say the words.”

Steve exchanges looks with the widow again. “What do you mean?”

Thor shakes his head, and seems to let that thought go. Steve thinks about pushing him a little harder, but Thor speaks up before he can. “I would suspect Loki gained this new alliance after… what happened on the Bifrost. After he fell.”

Something heavy plummets at the bottom of Steve’s chest. “Fell?”

Thor nods. “Aye,” he says. 

“He fell,” Natasha asks, leaning back in her seat, arms crossed over her chest. “Or he jumped?”

Thor flinches like he’s been punched. 

“Subtle,” he mumbles sarcastically towards her. She just shrugs, as though it were obvious.

Thor’s fists are clenched tight down at his sides, but it doesn’t look to be with anger. Something worse, maybe, than that. “Neither,” he croaks, with difficulty. “He let go…”

The meaning behind Thor’s words are clear, and Steve is silent for a moment before saying, “he tried to kill himself.”

Thor’s eyes snap to his, a frown etching into his features like he doesn’t quite understand. As though that was the first time he’s heard someone truly  _ say it.  _ Steve wasn’t sure what the entailed, or just how deep this display of misunderstanding ran. But it was evident it has affected the relationship between Thor and Loki. 

“Yes,” Thor finally answers, and his voice is tight in the back of his throat. “He fell into the Void, and that is where I believe he met his newfound allies.”

“What is the Void,” Steve asks. 

When Thor answers, Steve hears a slight tremor of fear in his throat. “It is the place between the realms. There is not a large supply of knowledge on the place, for those who venture in…” Thor stops, and swallows, his throat bobbing. “They don’t make it out.”

Something… dreadful was filling in the pit of Steve’s belly. If Loki fell into a place where it is said no one has survived, then how did he get out unscathed? 

_ He wasn’t unscathed when you fought him, though, was he? _

Steve is recalling the almost desperate way Loki moved in Stuttgart, the sloppiness of his moves despite his evident well-trained fighting. He was initially a prince, it would make sense he was brought up to fight well. But what Loki displayed in Germany… did not show princely fighting. It showed desperation, it was of a frantic energy. 

But he was strong, he would have won that fight had he not surrendered. Steve has no doubt about that. So why did he give up so easily. What was he planning? How did he escape this Void Thor spoke of as if he were frightened of it?

_ Your brother is dead,  _ he remembers Loki saying.  _ He died in the Void, and what came after just resurrected him to his own ruination.  _

_ What came after… _

_ His own ruination… _

What did that mean?

“I think you’re right,” he says a little dazed. 

Thor’s and Natasha’s eyes snap to his. “What?” Thor says.

“I think you’re right that he acquired the Chitauri in the Void.”

Thor frowns at him, blinking twice before his tongue sprang out to lick his lips. “What is on your mind?”

Steve bites his tongue to keep his suspicions at bay. “I don’t know yet,” he says instead. 

“Steve?” Natasha’s voice breaks Steve out of his reverie, and he blinks it away. 

“Yeah,” he answers. “Just… a hunch.”

“What hunch,” she asks.

“I don’t know yet,” he repeats, a little harder in order to express his disinterest to speak of it now. “I want to talk to him.”

He  _ really  _ didn’t mean to say that. He doesn’t know why he did.

“Pardon,” Thor tilts his head at him, and Steve hears a darker tone overtake the god’s voice, out of protection of Loki, no doubt. “Why?”

“I’m not going to hurt him or interrogate him, or whatever you think,” he tries to reassure, and he sees Thor slump a little, and he hopes it is in relief. “I just… I want to talk to him.”

“Why,” Natasha echoes Thor. 

Steve gives her a hard stare. “I don’t know yet.”

She is visibly irritated by that, but he doesn’t particularly care at this moment. He turns back to Thor. “Would it be okay if I did?”

The god’s brows furrow together in confusion. “You’re asking me permission?”

“Of course,” he answers. “He’s your brother. I don’t want to put him or you in any uncomfortable situations.” Which… was half a lie. He was almost positive the conversation he was about to have with Loki was going to make him  _ very  _ uncomfortable. But… Steve has a feeling.

Just a feeling. Something he needs to speak with Loki about before this gets worse. 

Thor is hesitant, and Steve understands why, and while he sits there patiently to wait, he can’t help but feel like he should be moving as fast as he can. They’re losing time, and Steve can  _ do  _ this. He can get Loki to talk.

Thor is still staring at him wearily, and Natasha’s voice breaks the silence. “Why don’t you let me talk to him? That’s kind of my job, I think I could-,”

“No,” Steve cuts her off. “It needs to be me.”

She frowns at him. “Why? What makes you think you can get him to talk?” She doesn’t mean it cruelly, but it does spark a slight temper in him. 

He locks his eyes on hers, and she watches him. “Trust me.”

And, yeah, he knew those words wouldn’t mean much to her. They just met, and he has a feeling she wasn’t the type to trust easily. In fact, he might think she doesn’t trust anyone. 

However, she cocks her head to the side, watches him for a second more, and then leans back in her seat. “Okay,” she nods. There is something on her features that suggests she  _ does  _ trust him. Or his hunch. Either way, he is grateful for it.

“Thor?”

The tense god turns back to Steve. He breathes in through his nose, and exhales it through his mouth, shoulders letting go of some of their tension. “Alright,” he says. “Talk to him.”

Steve can hear the plea. 

Steve stands from his seat, and takes a step towards Thor. He lays a gentle hand on the thunderer’s shoulder, and tips his head to him. He gives him what he hopes is an encouraging smile. 

Thor stares at him for a moment, and then Steve turns on his heel, and heads towards Loki’s cell.

_ What makes you think you can get him to talk? _

Steve’s jaw clenches. 

_ Because I’ve noticed something no one else has. _

_ … _

Loki zones out again.

It happens, sometimes, when he isn’t moving or working, and thinking too much. It happened often in his youth, but since his newfound alliance with Thanos, it has only gotten worse, his mind deteriorating thought by thought. He lost himself in his mind many times during his stay on Sanctuary, and Thanos’ lieutenant was always there to correct this particular issue. 

He blinks out of it, forcing his way back to the surface. 

He doesn’t know where he goes when he loses his sense, but that alone almost makes it easier. To feel nothing and hear nothing and be nothing. It was a blankness of relief that he wasn’t sure he was ever going to feel again, if not for this habit. So, when he is alone and free of the Other’s claws, he allows himself the solace. 

He is still sitting on his bed when he blinks out of it, his posture straight and hands resting on his knees, gripping them until he can feel his nails biting into his skin through the leather. He exhales sharply, standing from his position to pace the length of his cell. Which isn’t much, but it’s enough to keep himself moving.

He paces for nearly ten minutes before he hears it. 

_ You’re moving too slow. _

He stops, head snapping up to see if someone spoke to him aloud, but no. Only in his mind. Just his mind. 

He shakes it away, and continues to pace.

One, two, three, four, fi-

_ You need to move faster. _

He stops again, turning sharply to see behind him. 

No on there.

_ I know you can hear me. _

“Oh,” he whispers to himself in the silence of his cell. 

_ Yes,  _ he can hear the Other’s smirk.  _ Move. Faster. _

Loki’s eyes scan his cell, stops on the camera, watching him, and then puts his back to it. “I am moving at the pace I believe will gain us most,” he speaks hurriedly and hushedly.

_ And you believe you carry all knowledge? _

Loki grits his teeth, refusing to rise to the bait. “No,” he forces. “But if I move too quickly, we risk compromising this entire mission.”

He knew he was right in this. 

_ You are wasting time. That’s all you do, all you are good for. A waste. _

He clenches his jaw, biting his tongue. 

_ Thanos is putting his trust and faith in you. Such a gift you have taken advantage of. _

Loki’s hands are shaking at his sides, his breath quickening slightly in his chest.

_ Do not disappoint him.  _

A zap of pain runs through his head and down his neck, through the length of his spine, and down to his legs. His knees fall from under him, and they slam against the hard floor, cracking a little.

He doesn’t make a sound against the pain. 

Instead, he breathes through his nose harshly for a moment, closing his eyes.  _ Don’t panic. Don’t panic. Don’t panic.  _

There was absolutely no other point in the Other’s short conversation with him other than to exhibit a show of control. And, Norns, it worked. He was nothing without that control, he was nothing without Thanos.  _ You can do this. You can do this.  _

“Loki?”

He stops breathing, stops moving, stops thinking.

“Loki, are you okay?”

He can not figure out who is speaking to him, so he makes the conscious decision to fist his hands, and force himself to his feet. 

He turns over his shoulder.

He smirks.

“Captain…”


	6. buried deep, it will snap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve speaks with Loki.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my lord, this is like 3 months late and I’m so sorry. If you’ve been keeping up with me, you may already know, but my mental and physical health as of late has been... not too good. But we’re on my way up, and I have this amazing job opportunity that I am excited for! 
> 
> I know I am excited for THIS! I really enjoyed writing this chapter after so long of not even glancing at this story. I promise updates are coming, they’re just a little slower than you may remember. I apologize again, and I really hope you enjoy this chapter because I really did.

The first thing Steve notices when Loki picks himself up from his knees and turns around, is the evident fear behind the smirk. He can tell Loki is actively trying to mask it, but it’s there. Steve has to wonder what he is afraid of. 

He walks in, and there Loki was, practically gasping for air on his knees in the middle of his cell. Concern had flared in him then, and it’s still there looking at Loki now. 

“Captain,” Loki practically purrs. 

He hesitates, but barely. “That’s me,” he tries for a casual tone. He notices the paleness standing out on Loki’s skin, dark circles accompanying the bottom of his eyes. He looks exhausted. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure of this pleasant surprise,” Loki asks, a clear sarcasm in his voice. 

Steve shrugs nonchalantly, as though he weren’t talking to literal alien demi-god trying to attack (who has attacked) Earth. He slips his hands in his pockets, taking another stride toward the cell. “Just thought we could talk.”

Loki huffs a little laugh. “You and everyone else,” he says. Steve can hear the gravel in his voice, as though he’d been screaming. The smirk, however, was still painted on his lips like it was permanent. 

“Well,” Steve says. “Can you really blame us? You’ve attacked people, killed people. You have some of our men under your control. Is it really so off base that we would maybe ask why?” He doesn’t say it with an accusatory tone, but rather he speaks conversationally.

Loki examines him, as if trying to determine something crucial, his eyes narrowed at him with suspicion. It makes Steve uncomfortable, but he doesn’t show it. Or at least, he doesn’t think he does. 

After a moment, Loki chuckles. “Can you truly blame  _ me _ ?” He asks, and Steve frowns at that. 

“What do you mean?”

Loki watches him again. “What did you expect would happen when you started to play with things you couldn’t possibly understand,” he asks, and the smirk widens. “Can you blame me for taking the bait?”

The Tesseract.

Steve… didn’t like that at all. That Loki could view people’s lives as something as small as bait. As though they were fish on a hook, floating about in the water waiting to catch the bite. Humans weren’t as small and petty as Loki thinks, but Steve didn’t think now was the time to try to convince him of that. 

Though, he also couldn’t help but think Loki had a very valid point. Steve said it once, and he’ll say it again: the Tesseract should have stayed in the ocean, where it’s probability to be left exposed to _exactly this kind of thing _was not as high a possibility. However…

“That doesn’t make it okay,” he says. Loki tilts his head at him. “Believe me, I don’t think we should have ever touched the damn thing either, but that’s not the point. Two wrongs don’t make a right.”

“Why not?”

He waits for a moment before answering, watching Loki’s eyes scrutinize him. “Because, that’s not how it works. It’s not acceptable to hurt someone just because they did something to you first,” he explains. “And besides, we didn’t hurt you. You just decided yourself to  _ take the bait,  _ as you say.”

Loki’s smirk falters only a fraction, but it’s enough for Steve to notice. 

“How would you know?” Loki asks, and Steve thinks he hears a hint of anger in the question. “How would you know it wasn’t hurting me? Do  _ you _ know how the Tesseract works?”

Steve blinks at that, almost feeling somewhat guilty. Because he didn’t know. He was ignorant in the aspect of space artifacts, of course, but he’d never considered the possibility that it  _ was  _ hurting Loki? Which would… not change the situation exactly, but… 

“Was it?” He decides to ask. Loki’s jaw clenches, but he doesn’t answer, so Steve asks again. “Was it hurting you?”

There is an almost haunted look in Loki’s eyes to suggest it  _ had  _ been hurting him, but Loki still didn’t answer, and Steve didn’t ask again. He figures it was more complicated than that. But it was something to consider, and probably something to bring back to Thor and the others when he was done here. 

“Okay,” Steve nods, slipping his hands out of his pockets. “If you won’t answer that question, maybe you’ll answer this one-,”

“Why am I doing this,” Loki interrupts, finishing for Steve, his tone almost bored. 

Except he wasn’t finishing for Steve, because that wasn’t what Steve was going to ask at all. He shook his head. “No,” he says. “Actually, I was going to ask this: why did you surrender in Germany?”

That took Loki aback, Steve notices when he frowns a little. He hesitates before answering. “It didn’t seem reasonable to fight where I can not win.”

There are… a number of issues with that. First of all… “in that case, you should know that trying to rule here won’t work out for you in the end, either.”

Loki opens his mouth to respond, but Steve interrupts him. “And second of all, you could have easily won that fight. You just chose not to. I’m just wondering why that is.”

Loki narrows his eyes at him, his anger showing through the veil. “What is it you think you know?”

“I’m just saying…” he admits, shrugging. “It’s interesting”

“Interesting,” Loki echoes him, as if something were dawning on him. 

Steve is not sure whether or not to go further, but he decides Loki is in a cell, and if he loses his temper or control, Steve would be safe. But it was something that had been gnawing at him ever since they snatched Loki off the streets in Germany. “You know what else is bothering me?”

“Please, enlighten me,” Loki says, a slight snip in his voice to suggest he was losing patience. Which was good for Steve. He wasn’t particularly  _ trying  _ to distress Loki exactly, but he had to get him to snap just a little if it meant getting any information.

“Why did you make such a spectacle?”

“A spectacle?”

Steve nods. “Yes. In Germany, you made quite the scene just trying to prove you were higher than everybody else. You’re not, but that’s not really the point I am trying to make.”

Loki’s breath hitches slightly, and Steve almost wonders if he imagined it. “And what exactly is your point, Captain?”

He doesn’t speak for a moment, and he watches the way Loki’s fists clench at his sides, his knuckles going white.  _ Yes,  _ Steve thinks.  _ I’m getting somewhere.  _

“I’m just saying. You seem smart. And you’re a trained fighter. I fought you myself, remember? If you needed to get done whatever it was you were doing, it seems to me it could have been done a lot quieter. A lot less obvious.”

He remembers the way Loki fought. Calculated, but sloppy. Desperate. As if he were in some kind of  _ hurry.  _

Loki swallows. “I was simply showing the humans just how small they are. Putting them in their place,” he says, but Steve doesn’t believe that. And Steve doesn’t believe it because  _ Loki _ doesn’t sound like he believes it himself.  _ Just tell me what’s going on,  _ Steve thinks. The hunch he’d felt before only seemed to be stronger now. 

“It was like you wanted to be seen.”

Anger flares again in the green irises of Loki’s eyes, but he forces a laugh anyway. “You think I’m sabotaging my own invasion?”

“Are you?”

“And why would I do that?” Loki asks. 

“I don’t know,” Steve answers honestly. “You want to tell me?”

Loki’s eyes slide over to the side, as if he were listening to something, before sliding back on the captain. Steve doesn’t miss the way his skin almost pales further. “There is nothing to tell you. You’ll just have to wait and see.”

“Thor said you had an army.”

“I do.”

“The Chitauri, right?” Loki didn’t answer, but Steve knew the answer anyways. “Thor says they are not of any known origin. How did you acquire an army like that in the middle of the Void?”

And  _ there  _ it was _ .  _ Loki pushed against the glass with his palm with a frustrated sound, turning his back to Steve. “You know nothing.”

“Then tell me.”

“I told you, there is nothing to tell you.” Loki’s shoulders were practically attached to his earlobes, the tension in them tight. “The Chitauri will come. I suggest you prepare for that rather than stand here and poke and prod at my motives.” 

“You’re  _ warning _ me to prepare for the army you’re bringing?”

“I can be charitable.”

“That’s not what you’re doing.”

Steve wonders if Loki was even aware he  _ was  _ sabotaging his own invasion. 

Loki whirls around, facing Steve again, the panicked look somehow worse, but still hidden behind a veil of confidence that he was slowly losing. “And you think you know what I am doing?”

“I don’t even think  _ you _ know what you’re doing.”

Loki looks to the side again as if he were listening to something.  _ Or someone,  _ Steve thinks. It lasts longer than it did before. The fear shines brighter. “You think me ill prepared for the invasion  _ I  _ planned and prepared for?”

“You planned?”

“Yes.”

“You planned this? All of your own accord?”

“You think I did not?”

Steve can see it, the resolve in Loki’s mask falling apart piece by piece. He thinks Natasha would be proud of him, for that. He’s had his fair share of conversations with villains. If Loki could be considered that. 

Steve decides he will take a leap. “From what Thor says, you fell in the Void, and somehow ended up alive and with an army ready to attack Earth. I get the impression this isn’t normal for those who fall in this Void Thor speaks of as though he is afraid of it. I’m just wondering how that happened?”

_ For those who venture in… they don’t make it out. _

Loki’s clenched jaw releases for a moment before tightening again. But Steve can’t help but notice that it almost looks as though it were clenched in pain. 

_ Your brother is dead. He died in the void, and what came after just resurrected him to his own ruination.  _

“Maybe it didn’t happen that way,” Steve suggests. He takes a step closer to the cell, to Loki, something desperate but cautious in the way he speaks next. “Maybe, just  _ maybe _ , there is someone bigger than you calling the shots.”

“I came here of my own volition,” Loki says without hesitation, but Steve thinks it sounds too rehearsed. 

“Maybe it’s someone you’re afraid of,” he continues, ignoring Loki. 

Loki’s fist slams against the glass, but it doesn’t shatter it at all, it only vibrates. “You think you have it all figured out! You think you’re so clever. You know  _ nothing _ ! You have  _ no idea _ what you will face.”

“What about what you’re facing?”

“I am not the one being invaded.”

“I think you are.”

Silence. 

Loki doesn’t move. Steve doesn’t either. 

He can see Loki’s shoulders heaving up and down as he breathes, but it’s strained, and it seems to be happening with difficulty. Loki’s hesitation shines in his eyes, and Steve wonders if he will come forward and  _ talk.  _

Steve remembers Thor saying  _ what has made you so heartless, what has made you hate me so?  _ but Steve doesn’t see heartless. He sees  _ terror.  _ He sees complete and utter desperation, enough desperation to be uncalculated and sloppy. 

He recalls Loki’s fear when they fought in Germany, he recalls the hitched breaths and anxiety in Loki’s form on the plane, and he recalls the way Loki was shaking on his knees when he walked in here to talk. 

“What are you afraid of, Loki?”

His voice is gentle when he asks it, a soft whisper in an attempt to calm the situation down. 

But Loki doesn’t answer. His shoulders fall, defeat in his stance as he gives Steve a look he can’t quite define, and strides toward the bed to sit down. 

He doesn’t say another word. 

Neither does Steve. 

When it becomes evident Loki would not say another word, Steve sighs, then turns on his heel, leaving Loki there alone. 

…

When Steve makes it back to Thor and Natasha, they’re both sitting in front of the live feed of Loki’s cell. Steve notices Loki hasn’t moved since he left, still sitting on the bed, completely still, like a statue. His eyes had closed, and Steve could see the wrinkles around his eyes to suggest they were clenched tight. 

Thor stands up first, walking toward Steve with something urgent. “Captain Rogers,” he greets, something rough in his voice. 

“Steve is fine,” he says, and Thor nods. 

Natasha is still sitting, staring at the stillness of Loki’s form. Except, Steve notices now, it’s not still. It’s  _ stiff.  _ There is a difference. Perhaps a detrimental one. 

“I’m sorry for the harsh words my brother may have directed towards you,” Thor says, and Steve looks at him. 

“Don’t worry about it. He didn’t actually say anything that terrible.”

Which is true. If anything, Steve was the one trying to get Loki to rise to the bait, which he thinks he succeeded in. Though he couldn’t help but feel a little bit guilty looking at Loki on the screen now. 

He had to believe it was fine, though. It was for the greater good, it was for his fellow soldiers and citizens who needed him. Thinking of it that way, however, made him feel like a hypocrite. 

_ Two wrongs don’t make a right.  _

“Are you alright,” Thor asks him. 

Steve shakes from his thoughts, giving Thor a tight smile. “I’m fine.”

“I think I know what your hunch was,” Natasha says, eyes still fixed on the screen. Loki still hasn’t moved, except that he somehow looks stiffer than he was. “You think he was  _ sent  _ here.”

Steve nods. “I do.”

Thor frowns, then makes a face as though something just dawned on him. “I asked him, on that mountain, before your Man of Iron attacked me. I asked him who controlled the would-be-king.” Thor shook his head. “He didn’t answer.”

“He didn’t answer me either,” Steve notes. “But I didn’t necessarily state out loud I thought somebody sent him, but I think he got the message.” 

“If somebody did send him,” Natasha remarks. “Then we have bigger problems.”

“He denies that he came here of anyone else’s will other than his own,” Steve says. “But I think he’s lying. Why he is lying, I don’t know. But I  _ do  _ know he is scared.”

Steve looks at the screen again. Still Loki hasn’t moved. It unnerved Steve in something different than unease. 

“What could he be scared of,” Thor asks. 

“I don’t think it’s what he could be scared of,” Natasha corrects. “At this point, I think it’s  _ who. _ ”

Steve nods, agreeing. He forces his tired legs to drag him to the table, where he takes a seat two chairs away from Natasha. Thor follows, taking a seat next to him. Steve notices the tired way Thor practically falls in the chair, as though he were absolutely exhausted. Steve bets he is. 

The last time Thor had seen Loki, it was of him, his little brother, letting go of some staff and falling to his death through a black space pit. Based on the evident love Thor has for his brother, it would suggest he had mourned. Perhaps is still mourning. 

“Thor,” he says, and Thor turns to him. Finally, so does Natasha. She doesn’t turn off the feed of Loki’s cell, though. “What was Loki like? You know… before this?”

A sadness passes through Thor’s eyes, and Steve feels a pang for him. “I can assure you he was never… like  _ this. _ ” He gestures to the screen. “In our youth, Loki was usually the one getting myself out of trouble, though I’ll admit most of the time he was the one getting me into it all the same. He caused mischief, and pulled pranks on myself and the palace staff, but… but what little brother doesn’t?” 

A small smile pulls at Thor’s lips. It’s a reminiscent one. “He was a smart child, he always was. More so than me. He never struggled in his studies, but I… Loki sometimes would stay up past the night just to make sure I was caught up. He was a scholar of magic, talented, though he would tell you I and my friends would criticize him for the choice of combat. 

“I know he seems… evil now. Monstrous even, but… believe me, he didn’t use to be. He was kind. Polite. One time,” he smiles a little wider. “One time, he found this girl in the courtyard crying over a ripped handkerchief her mother had given her. One of the counselor’s boy’s ripped it on purpose to upset her. Loki comforted her while she cried, and later news had come that the boy’s goblet turned into a snake, and it frightened him enough to lose control of his bladder in front of everyone.” Thor chuckles, but there are tears shining in his eyes. “I knew it’d been Loki, but no one else did.”

Natasha looks at the screen then, the same thoughts swirling through her head as Steve’s.  _ Hard to believe that’s the same guy sitting in that cell right now.  _

“I’ll admit, he was a paranoid child as well. There was this period of time through our youth where he suffered the cruelest of nightmares. He’d wake screaming every night, or I’d find him sweating and speaking incoherently through his restlessness. It faded after a while, but I’ll never forget it. He would come to my bed almost every night, and I would hold him and keep the nightmares at bay.”

A tear slips out of Thor’s eye, and Steve doesn’t know what to  _ do.  _ He wants to help Thor, and he wants to help Loki. If Steve knew anything from this conversation, it was that Thor and Loki were close in their youth.  _ Very  _ close. So what happened to that?

“When he discovered the truth of his origins…” Thor continues. “It was as though something snapped. Something he’d been keeping buried deep in himself, so deep even I could not see it, came to the surface too fast to process.”

Steve swallows before asking, “how did he come to… fall in the void.” He didn’t think Thor needed the reminder that his little brother  _ killed himself.  _

Thor sighs. “It’s very complicated.”

Natasha looks at the screen again, then back at Thor. “Seems like we’ve got some time,” she says. 

Thor swallows, hesitating before he finally nods. He licks his lips before they part. “Loki is… Jotun.” He says it with difficulty, and Steve wonders what that means. “The Jotunar are a species of ice giants, in simplest terms. Frost Giants, to be exact.”

Thor doesn’t speak for a moment, and Steve could see it was because he was trying to gather his words. He waited patiently, and so did Natasha. 

“The Jotunar have been… Asgard went to war with them, centuries ago. Our father fought in the war. They lost, and Asgard prospered, but the consequences of such victory lead to a hatred for the species. I myself have been prejudiced toward them, when I had no reason to be other than stereotypical motivation. They are monsters.  _ Were  _ monsters. I don’t know.”

Clearly, this was a topic Thor wasn’t ready for. And Steve understands. He comes from a time of segregation and heightened racial tensions, and race wars, and riots, and protests. Now, he could eat at the same restaurant a black man could, and that gladdened him. He never believed anyone should be limited by anything other than  _ who  _ they were, not  _ what.  _

This was something Thor didn’t seem to understand yet. And that’s okay. It’s not something easily relearned, but if the tone in Thor’s voice meant anything, it was that he  _ did  _ want to relearn. And that was already a big step in the right direction.

“So,” Thor begins again, pulling Steve from his thoughts. “When he discovered this; that he  _ was  _ Jotun… he snapped.”

“What happened?” Steve asks. 

“As I said, it’s a long and complicated tale, but I was banished, our Father was in Odinsleep, and so Mother set the succession to fall to Loki. He would rule as king regent until either I returned, or Father woke up.

“In his time on the throne, he conspired with the Frost Giants, but it was an elaborate manipulation in the end to destroy their planet. And that’s exactly what he did. Or tried to do. I came back and stopped him, but I had to destroy the Bifrost, our means of travel, in order to foil his plans. The force of the Bifrost’s destruction caused an implosion, and it pushed us back. I fell, but Loki fell faster. I grabbed on to the first thing I saw: Gungnir, the staff of the king. Loki held on to the staff, and our Father came in time to grab me. There we were… dangling above the Void.” 

Thor swallows. 

“I don’t… I don’t remember a lot of that moment, but I do remember Loki’s voice pleading. He said something to Father, but I don’t remember what it was. All I could think was,  _ pull him up, do something, you’re his brother, please… _

“And then… I saw it happen. I could see in his eyes the moment he made the decision. And I pleaded, I  _ begged  _ him not to do it. I saw his hope…  _ die. _ ” Another tear slips past Thor’s eyelashes, and it slides gently down his cheek. Steve’s heart felt heavy in his chest. “And then he let go. He didn’t look away from me once until I could no longer see his face.”

When Thor didn’t say another word, Steve sighed.  _ Shit,  _ he thinks. There was obviously a complicated history of racism and lies, and disappointment to Loki, but he couldn’t help but think there was way more to this than that. This was only Thor’s side of the story, and Steve felt he very much needed Loki’s. No one tries to end their life for no reason, and there is obviously a reason, but Steve doesn’t believe it just circles back to Loki’s origin. There’s something more complicated going on with the brothers that needed attention, especially in regards to Loki. 

“I’m sorry,” he says to Thor. “I can’t say I know what you’re going through, but I’m sorry.”

Thor looks at him, like he’s been needing to hear that for a long time. He doesn’t say anything, though, just nods his thanks. 

“So,” Natasha says, a look of concentration on her face. “Loki falls through the Void, and ends up on the other side with an army. How did he get this army?”

Steve hesitates, but says, “I don’t think it’s how he got it. I think it’s  _ who  _ he got it from. And whoever he got it from… that’s who he is afraid of.”

Natasha nods like she agrees. 

Steve waits a moment, and examines the way Natasha’s eyes are tight but unreadable, and Thor’s shoulders are slumped in defeat and sadness, and Steve takes note of his own confused, exhausted mind. He’s starting to feel a pound behind his eyes, and he pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and pointer finger. 

“Right now, I think we need some rest,” he finally says. 

Natasha makes a face to suggest she agrees, but Thor doesn’t really move. His eyes are fixed on the screen where his little brother sits in a cell, still unmoving, and Steve puts his hand on his shoulder to get his attention. “Come on,” he says, getting up, gently pulling Thor up with him. “Let’s get some quick rest.”

“I’ll show you guys to some bunks,” Natasha says, following Steve to standing. 

They follow her out, and she leads them each to a small room with a bed, and he thanks her for her assistance, and then he plops down on the mattress. 

He doesn’t sleep. Instead, every time he closes his eyes, he sees Loki’s face, painted with a fear Steve knows all too well.


End file.
